


Breaking The Wheel: A GOT Season 8 Fanfic

by 2Littlewing



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jonerys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-19 22:37:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14882523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2Littlewing/pseuds/2Littlewing
Summary: The Long Night has come. Jon and Daenerys join with all the living North to fight for the Dawn.





	1. Return of the King/A Southern Ruler

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: This is what I want to see and/or what I think will happen in GOT: Season 8. It’s mostly told from Jon and Dany’s perspective because a) I love these characters and b) I see them as the main drivers of Season 8. There is not a lot of angst or smut in this fic (plenty of fics do that much better than I could). I mostly focus on the plot, interplay between characters, and the action because I don't think they will realistically have a lot of room for much else with only 6 episodes left in the show. I will post this in 6 sections over the next couple weeks (or sooner if there seems to be enough interest). It's all finished, just tweaking and editing as I go, so no update worries. We will get to the end. No infringement intended. Viva Le FanFic!

Chapter 1: Return of the King

It had been two days and almost two nights with barely any food or drink between them, but with the adrenaline of war coursing through their veins, Dany and Jon barely noticed. They had been at the forefront of the Great War, almost from the moment they arrived in Winterfell, besieged by the dead in a constant wave until today when something seemed to break and, for a moment, there was a lull in the fighting. 

Exhausted, Dany and Jon retreated to the makeshift tents at the edge of the battlefield that Sansa and the people of Wintertown had set up to feed and care for the men and women in battle. They stood an appropriate distance apart, yet still side-by-side, with Ghost following closely behind. The direwolf’s white fur was marred with bits of ice and hardened ash, but there was no blood in his maw. He did not kill the living. Once inside, the beast lay down between Jon and the seat Dany had taken, too exhausted to eat. 

“Please, Your Grace, come. You must be famished,” Hot Pie said while handing Jon a bowl of stew and a fresh chunk of the browned butter bread he’d brought with him from the Crossroads Tavern when he fled at the news that the Great War had begun. 

Jon nodded his appreciation, then handed the first bowl to Dany. 

“Thank you,” she murmured before taking the bowl to her lips. There was no spoon and no time for one. Neither of them spoke as they tasted their first meal in days. 

“Better?” Jon asked as he watched Dany sip her soup. Being near her felt equal parts essential and distracting. His palms itched to touch her, yet, there was no time. 

She looked up at him and smiled.

“Yes. Thank you.” Even with his own exhaustion, his voice was still thick with concern and affection. 

Lord Mandalay and Lord Cerwyn watched them silently from across the table where provisions were being served, but none dared utter a word. Dany ignored their stares and focused on answering her hunger with the stew and bread before her. A rush of cold air brought a shiver to her spine as Lord Glover entered the tent.

“Your…Grace.” Lord Glover looked between Jon and Dany with trepidation before settling his eyes on her. The words still stuck in his throat, but Dany noted that he still managed to push through. 

“The BlackFish has arrived from RiverRun with Jaime Lannister and the Tully army. Five thousand by my count. They’ve relieved your men at the front line.”

“Thank you, Lord Glover. My Unsullied will be grateful for the rest.”

Outside, Drogon and Rhaegal screeched across the sky as they took in the strange new men at the front line.

“Indeed, Your Grace.” The words fit inside his mouth a little easier this time. “Your men have fought bravely.” 

“And the Lannister Army?” Jon asked Lord Glover. 

“There’s no sign of them, Your Grace. When the Kingslayer arrived, he asked to speak to Tyrion. He said it was urgent.” 

Jon frowned. Betrayed. He wanted to be surprised, but he couldn’t honestly say that he was. The men of the North were exhausted. He couldn’t bear to bring them any more bad news now. The Tullys had come and Jaime’s presence proved that at least there was more than one Lannister who could be taken at his word. 

“Thank you, my Lord, “ Jon replied, watching Lord Glover turn his attention back to Dany. 

“We are glad to have you with us, Your Grace,” he added with a low bow, then left. Inside the tent, there was a rumble of agreement among the other Lords and Ladies. They knew that without Daenerys Stormborn, the North would never have survived this long.

***

The cold winds of White Harbor hit hard when they landed barely a week before, but the news of the breach at Eastwatch hit harder. Just hours before, Jon had been lying in Dany’s bed, recounting the names and dispositions of all the Northern Lords she would meet while twisting a lock of silver hair around his fingers. They’d been serious, but relaxed and warm in each other’s arms. 

He’d expected to use the six-day ride to Winterfell to ease Dany into her new surroundings, but by the time they reached the dock, it was clear they had run out of time. Lord Mandalay’s squire, Sir Donkin, delivered the news personally, then offered to escort them to Winterfell. 

They rode hard on the King’s Road to Winterfell, with Jon trying his best to lead them. Though he was an excellent horseman, the Dothraki were better and had this been summer, they would have raced him home with ease. But what Jon lacked in mastery, he more than made up for in knowledge of the terrain and how to navigate the heavy snows that the Dothraki and Unsullied had never seen before. 

At his side, Dany had no trouble keeping up. These are her people, he reminded himself. These were the first to accept her as Khaleesi. 

At night, the Dothraki and Unsullied huddled together in tents to share their warmth and ward off the North’s bitter cold. Dany and Jon would have liked nothing more than to do the same, but duty demanded more of them. On the ship to White Harbor, news of their union was a well-known secret, but here, under the watchful eyes of the knights of House Manderlay and the looming specter of convincing the Northern Lords at Winterfell, Dany and Jon, with Tyrion’s urging, agreed that it was best to keep the focus on the wars ahead.

By the time they reached the gates of Winterfell, it was dusk and the soft lines of Dany’s face had hardened with the cold and anticipation of what was to come. In her, Jon saw his own resolve.

Good, Jon thought. This will not be easy.

From the turret of the First Keep, his eyes caught Sansa’s scarlett hair blowing in the wind as she watched the dragons circling the skies. Jon could only imagine what she must be thinking.

On the ground, the East gate opened and Arya came running out.

“Jon!” she called, bounding down the hill to his party. Ignoring the Dothraki horses and the Unsullied that dwarfed her tiny frame, she broke through their line until she reached where he had already dismounted and was waiting for her with open arms. 

He couldn’t speak until he had her fully wrapped within his embrace, just like the last time he’d seen her. Jon held her in silence for a long time before finally whispering, “I thought I’d lost you. I thought you were dead.”

When Arya pulled back from him there were tears in his eyes. 

Of all the places to find her again, she had to be at the edge of the most dangerous place in the world.

“I’m not dead. I’m right here with you, where I belong.”

This made him smile. From the corner of her eye, Arya caught a wisp of silver hair and a pair of curious lavender eyes watching them closely. Arya turned and extended her hand to greet the Dragon Queen.

“Hello, Your Grace. I’m Arya Stark. Jon’s sister. Your dragons are amazing, bigger than I ever imagined.”

Dany smiled at the young girl before her as Jon helped her from her horse. Walking forward, Dany took Arya’s palm in both her hands. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, my Lady.” The resemblance is so striking, Dany thought, casting a quick glance between brother and sister.

“Oh, I’m not a lady. Just Arya. You can call me, Arya.”

Dany’s smile broadened at her bluntness. “You favor your brother in look and character.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“What are you doing out here? Aren’t you supposed to wait with the greeting party?” Jon chuckled.

“Sansa can handle all that,” Arya replied. Jon looked back at the gate where their sister and the Lords of the North were assembled. He couldn’t make out a single friendly face among them. 

“See?” Arya remarked, clearly making the same assessment he had. “I figured I’d rather stay with you.”

“You protecting me, now?” Jon smiled, taking in her boyish clothes. She was not the little girl he’d left behind all those years ago, and yet, she was utterly herself. The fact that she still carried the sword he’d made for her filled him with too much emotion to speak of.

“If need be,” she said without a trace of humor. “I’ve still got Needle and I’ve been putting her to good use.”

Chapter 2: A Southern Ruler

For a moment, as they entered the gates of Winterfell, Dany wished she had flown in on her dragons. They would have wiped the contempt she saw right off the faces of the Lords and Ladies that stood before her. To his credit, Jon stayed by her side, introducing her to his sister, Sansa, his brother Bran, his best friend, Sam, Lord Commander of the Nights Watch, Ghost, and all the Lords and Ladies of the court. With the exception of a few, it was clear that none of them wanted her there. Their gazes met hers, defiant and unyielding. The only person besides Arya to give her a warm welcome was not a person at all. Ghost pranced right up to her and nuzzled her chest with a loud purr.

My people won’t accept a southern ruler. Not after everything they’ve suffered.

As with everything else, Jon had been true to his word. She would need to prove herself to the Lords of the North, just as she had proved herself to their King.

Sansa took care to show Dany and the rest of her party to their chambers while Jon took his leave to speak with Sam, Tormund, Beric, Edd, and Bran about exactly what they had seen and when the army of the dead would be upon them. 

But Dany arrived just in time to hear the worst news of all, that her own child had been turned against her, resurrected and used as a slave by the Night King. Though Jon could only imagine the turmoil she must have felt, Dany never let it show. All their plans, every advantage they thought the dragons would bring them had to be recalculated against the horror of Dany having to stand against her own child in battle. After gathering the information they needed, Jon had wanted to move swiftly into battle preparations, but Sansa insisted that the Lords needed to be addressed. 

“They need to understand what’s happening, Jon and they need to hear it from you,” Sansa urged. Though he loathed the idea of wasting any time that might be used for preparations, Jon knew Sansa was right. Reluctantly, Jon called a meeting in the Great Hall to discuss their course of action. As soon as their briefing adjourned, Sam approached.

“Jon,” Sam whispered when Dany and the other attendees had left the room. “Bran and I need to talk with you about another matter of importance.” Looking between his brother and his dear friend, Jon could tell it was not good news.

“Is this about the war?” he asked.

“Not exactly,” Sam admitted. 

“Then it can wait.”

“But, Jon, you need to –.”

“I’m sorry, Sam. I just can’t. Not now. If we live past the next 48 hours, then I promise, you can tell me anything you want, but not now, please.” Before Sam could protest, Jon turned and left the room, hoping to steal a moment to make sure Daenerys was all right before the meeting in the Great Hall.

“Let him go,” Bran said passively. “He will find out when he needs to.”

***

“My Lords and Ladies, I return to you with all the things I promised. With the help of Queen Daenerys, we have been able to negotiate a truce with Cersei to cease hostilities and focus efforts on our common enemy. Southern armies march to the North as we speak to join our cause. The Queen has not only granted us access to the stores of dragonglass at Dragonstone, but she has helped us forge thousands of weapons that will serve us well against the white walkers. She’s also brought her armies to the North to fight with us along with two fierce dragons.” 

Jon looked back to where Dany sat at the head table. He owed her so much. They all did. He hoped that what he’d said would be enough to show them. 

“For these reasons and the many other sacrifices she has made on our behalf, as King in the North, I have pledged fealty to House Targaryen.”

He didn’t have a moment to move back towards his seat before the uproar began.

Lord Royce of the Runestone stood first. 

“Your Grace, you can not expect the Vale to accept such a bargain! I warned you on your departure to Dragonstone that no daughter of the Mad King could be trusted to rule. Never before have foreign invaders so completely enveloped the North. I can scarcely tell if we’re under rescue or under siege. Surely, Lady Sansa would agree.”

“Take Care, Lord Royce. Remember what happened to the last nobleman who tried to come between our family. Jon has made many sacrifices to be here. As our King, we will hear him out and heed his judgment.” 

Lord Royce flinched at Sansa’s words and, for the first time, Jon noticed the absence of Littlefinger. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arya’s smirk. Curiosity made him wonder what happened, but he knew the story behind it would have to wait. What was more surprising was Sansa’s defense of his actions. Her reception to Daenerys had not been warm. He’d expected her to openly question his decision, but instead, she had defended him. 

Lord Cerwyn rose next. “And where are the rest of her dragons? I’d heard there were three, but I only saw two. For all we know, she’s hiding the last one somewhere, waiting until we turn our backs so she can burn us alive like Lord Tarly and take the North for herself!”

Jon looked across the room to find Sam clearly shocked by the news of his father’s death. He hadn’t heard. Jon hadn’t either, but when Dany returned so quickly from The Reach, he’d suspected. Randall Tarly had never been kind to Sam. Yet, Jon wondered how Sam would reconcile the news of his death with the memories of his cruelty. 

Behind him, Dany had had enough of the Northern Lords and their accusations. Rising from her seat she walked past where Jon stood in the middle of the Great Hall, then directed her ire towards the man with the pinched face that Jon had so aptly described on their trip to White Harbor.

“Lord Cerwyn, you have asked some important questions. Allow me to provide the answers you seek. Lord Tarly,” Dany faced Sam before she continued, “betrayed his house and conspired with the Lannisters to murder Lady Olenna Tyrell to whom he swore a sacred oath. He and his son were given a choice to make amends for their betrayal and refused. I wish they had chosen otherwise.

“And as for my third dragon, his name was Viserion and he is dead. I lost him in the battle beyond the wall, saving your King and his men from the Night King. In return, the Night King killed my dragon.” Dany’s voice rose against the murmurs that rippled through the hall.

“Your King has told me that no Lord here has ever been beyond the Wall and I can see now that it is true. You call me and those I have brought to help you, foreigners. Yet, with all your claims to this land, I understand the threat that awaits you better than you do! I have seen the Night King with my own eyes. I have risked my life, my dragons’ lives, and the lives of all those who have sworn to fight for me to protect a land I’ve never been to before today, to offer my assistance to a people I’ve never met. 

“I have risked everything to be here because, unlike my father, I come not only to rule the seven kingdoms, but to serve them as well, and as your Queen, the safety of my people, the survival of every man, woman, and child in Westeros is my duty and I will stand against any enemy that threatens them. That is why I am here, Lord Cerwyn, but if you do not want my assistance, I will not force it upon you. I will take my dragons and my armies and leave.”

By the time she was finished, Dany and Jon stood at opposite ends of the hall, but it seemed that he could feel her heartbeat and she could feel his from clear across the room. This was who he wanted them to see. This was the woman to whom he had pledged allegiance.

Dany was surprised to see Lady Mormont rise from the seat just behind where she stood. 

“Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, House Mormont is grateful for your service to the North and all you have done to see our King safely home. He has been sorely missed,” she added with a cutting glance at Lord Cerwyn and Lord Glover. 

“In the North, we have a saying. We know no King but the King in the North whose name is Stark. By now, I’m sure our King has told you of the suffering of our people at the hands of Southern rulers, some of whom were part of your own family. The North remembers, my Lady. We do not forget easily nor should we be expected to. I don’t know if I will ever call you Queen, but I trust Jon Snow, my King, and if he speaks for you, then you have my trust. House Mormont will fight with you.”

Dany took a deep breath. Of all the people Jon had mentioned, she knew Lady Mormont would be the hardest to turn. The relief felt like a weight off her shoulders. Truly this young girl was everything Jon promised she would be.

“Thank you, Lady Mormont. Your King is indeed an honorable man and worthy of the loyalty you bestow upon him. Through the service of your kin, Sir Jorah, House Mormont has saved my life many times over. It would be my honor to fight alongside you.”

Treading more lightly, Sir Royce rose once more.

“Your Grace, we are certainly grateful for your assistance, but the King in the North has been gone a long time and the threat you both claim has yet to come forth. Perhaps – .”

Bran’s voice was smooth as he turned his attention to the window. “If you do not believe your King, Lord Royce, see for yourself. Look to the east, towards the Lonely Hills…they will be here by morning.”

Abruptly, the Lords of the North hurried to the window. At first, they could see nothing but snow resting under the moon of a clear night sky, until a shadow seemed to spread like a stain over the top of a faraway hill. 

Gasps echoed throughout the Great Hall as Bran closed his eyes. “They will be here by morning,” he said again and was quiet. His training as the Three-Eyed Raven was over. Now all Bran could do was hope that he was ready.


	2. Siege/The Prince That Was Promised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The War for the Dawn reaches a critical juncture and Jon has to make a choice.

Chapter 3: Siege

The Great War began with three blasts of the Horn of the First Men. From Sam’s position atop the Broken Tower of Winterfell, the sound carried to every living soul below who shivered in its haunting wake.

The White Walkers were not yet upon them; the horn was meant to signal the army of the dead's descent into the last valley before the rise to Winterfell. Just ahead of the front line between the Dothraki, the Unsullied, and the Northmen, Jon Snow sat on horseback with Ghost at his side. 

He couldn’t afford his hesitation, yet he couldn’t help it either. 

They’d spent most of the night planning for this moment. Every resource, every person who could fight was in place. They had set the battlefield as far from the gates of Winterfell as they could, while still being close enough to work in tandem with the tower infantry and those running supplies. And yet, to look behind and give the order felt like condemning her and all those around him to death. How could he bear to look at her? How could he resist?

Jon turned to find her sharp gaze on him, every bit the Dragon Queen waiting to be unleashed. There had been no sighting of the Night King or Viserion throughout the night, nor was there a plan to fight him. Given that Dany was the only one with any experience with dragons, she was tasked with developing a strategy, but no one, including her, had ever done anything like this before. In the end, they all knew that whatever strategy she devised would hinge on her willingness to slay her own child.

“Be careful,” he’d whispered into her hair last night when he thought she was sleeping. “Please. I need you to come back to me.” He hoped now that she felt his solemn wish, that she would survive this day, deep within her bones as he gave the slightest nod. 

At his signal, Daenerys and her dragons took flight. The plan was to use Drogon and Rhaegal to burn as many wights as possible before they ever crossed into Winterfell. 

The first streams of fire were terrifying, unlike anything the Northern Men had ever seen. Drogon demolished the first wave of wights easily, with Rhaegal cutting a blaze of fire into the second. Below her, the Northerners cheered. With any luck, Dany thought, there would barely be a fight, but just as the notion left her mind, she heard it – a vaguely familiar shriek from behind followed by the screams of men burning alive. 

Viserion. Her stomach rolled with nausea as she turned to face what she knew to be true. He’s taken my dragon. He's taken, my child! Enraged and heartbroken, Daenerys charged.

On the ground, Jon rode through the scattered line of men. “Get down! Take Cover!” he shouted as he barely dodged a razor of heat and blue flame. Behind him, a hundred men had been reduced to ash. 

The battle has barely begun, he thought. If they were going to survive, every one of their careful plans would need to change. 

***  
From the tower, Sam watched the sky. Dany and the Night King hovered above, battling each other in ragged ribbons of blue and red flame until Rhaegal crashed into Viserion from the side, throwing the Night King off balance. Viserion roared in pain, tumbling to and fro as Rhaegal, then Drogon pursued him. Dany managed to get the Night King across the line of their defense, but by then what remained of the 2nd wave of wights and Wight Walkers was rising up from the valley in a frenzy. With Dany and her dragons occupied with the Night King, the rest of them would have to fight the wights off one-by-one.

Sam sounded the horn once more, signaling to Edd that the time had come to play his part. From the northeast corner of Winterfell, Edd put the catapults in motion, hurling barrels of burning pitch and oil onto the crowd of wights. Just behind them, the Knights of the Vale’s archers who lined the wall between the North Gate and the Broken Tower fired lit arrows into the hoard. Next to Sam, Bran sent ravens to pick the wights apart.

Many wights died, but many more came until the snow around them was covered with the dead.

Yet, somehow the living survived, not all, but enough to hold them off. Lord Mandalay and half his men lay dead or dying by his side. House Umber was almost extinct. Yet, with each tragedy, they rallied. The Unsullied and Dothraki numbers had thinned, but those who survived fought more fiercely than ever with GreyWorm pushing them on. From above, Dany could see that even the famed direwolves of the North had joined them, with Ghost and a grey and white wolf leading the pack. From morning until night, the dead came without ceasing, yet the living fought and held them back as one, until the dawn of the second day, when Dany managed to use Drogon’s claws to rip off part of Viserion’s wing. The Night King retreated into a cloud of ice and storm while the men of the North and her armies advanced. 

Rather than pursue him into the storm, Dany decided to double back with Rhaegal to clear as many wights from the battlefield as possible so that they would not be engulfed by the dead. 

Only after it was clear that the living had finally gained the upper hand against the wights in the valley, did she head back to Winterfell. Knowing her dragons were exhausted and hungry after a day of flying and fighting, Dany pulled back, determined to find Jon, then tend to the needs of her own children.

She found him at the edge of the valley, helping one of her bloodriders with a badly wounded leg up the hill. 

Jon’s beard and hair were covered with ash and snow, but he smiled when he saw her. 

“Are you all right? Where are the dragons?”

“Yes. We’re fine,” she assured him, trying to understand how Jon could shoulder a man nearly twice his size. “The dragons need food and rest – until the Night King returns.” 

“We have livestock waiting for them. I’ll have them brought over, once I get him to the Maester.” 

Knowing she would be no help in bearing his weight, Dany explained to Jago where Jon was taking him. She could only imagine how hurt he must have been to allow Jon to help him at all. Once they arrived at the tent that Sansa had set up to care for the wounded, Jon lay Jago before Maester Walkan and left to get food for the dragons. 

Dany stayed with Jago as the Maester gave him Milk of the Poppy then unwrapped the makeshift bandage that was already soaked in blood. After seeing the severity of the wound and the blood that still pulsed from the severed artery, Maester Walkan confided in Dany that he did not believe that Jago would survive, but she implored him to try. 

“He’s been with me from the beginning. Please, do all you can for him. I don’t want him to suffer.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

Dany stepped out of the tent just as Jon had come back to find her. 

“The dragons have been fed, but you must be starving. Come and eat.” 

Dany hadn’t thought so until she caught the smell of food nearby. Their time in the tent was brief, each taking only what they needed to get back into battle. The lull in the fighting was welcome, but Jon and Dany knew that the war was far from over. 

***  
From across the hills, the Night King stood beside Viserion. The dragon’s left wing was all but shattered, like half of his army. He had waited thousands of years to fight this battle, but he did not expect it to be so close so quickly. 

The army of the North had fought bravely, more fiercely that he had expected from such rootless, distracted creatures. They had concentrated all their efforts on defeating their enemy, but he wondered how focused they would be if the army they fought against was their own. 

The Night King walked to the edge of the ridge that served as his refuge and raised his arms high. 

From atop the tower at Winterfell, Bran came out of his vision with a shudder. “Burn the bodies! Burn the bodies! They’re here!” he bellowed into the storm. But, by then, Jago was already dead and Maester Wolkan soon would be. 

Chapter 4: The Prince That Was Promised

After delivering the news of Cersei’s betrayal to Tyrion, Jaime ran outside to find chaos everywhere. There were men in Stark uniforms attacking other Stark soldiers, except they were not all men. Drawing his sword, Jaime wondered how he’d managed to arrive just in time to witness a bad situation grow horribly worse. 

From across the field, he saw Jon and Dany stepping out from the dining tents and ran towards them. 

“What’s happening! How can this –” Jaime started

“It’s the Night King,” Jon replied. “He’s raising the dead.” Though Jaime could see the panic in Jon’s eyes, his voice stayed calm and steady.

“What! How can he do that?” The idea of what they were fighting was still unsettled in Jaime’s mind, but Jon didn’t have time to explain.

“Where are your men? We need more men!” 

“They’re not coming. Cersei betrayed us, all of us. No one else is coming. She’s hired the Golden Company to take back your lands, while we die up here. We’re the only help we’ve got.”

Jon looked out across the battlefield as all around them, the dead came alive once more. And for a moment, he was back at Hardhome with no sea between him and the King of the Dead. Overhearing Jaime’s account, Dany came from Jon’s side to stand between them. The look on her face was venomous, but she stayed focused on the problem at hand.

Turning to Jon, she asked, “What do we do now?” The determination in her voice brought Jon back from utter despair.

“Create a perimeter. We’ll do what we can from here.” 

Dany flashed Jaime one last murderous glare before rushing off towards Drogon who was already waiting for her. They took flight and headed north, searching for any line she could create between the living and the dead. 

On the ground, it was every man for himself. With thousands of dead lying on the battlefield, an attack could come from anywhere and it often did, pitting brother against brother, lords against their subjects. Lord Cerywn and Lord Yohn Royce were easily overcome, taken down by men who had fought and died by their side only hours before. 

Lord Glover with a few men other men from Deepwood Motte held their own, fighting back to back against their own North men. Ghost saved Gendry from an onslaught of wights only to have Gendry do the same when the hoard turned their attention to the direwolf. After Ghost was free of them, Nymeria and her pack shredded every wight that came in their path. 

The men of the Night’s Watch, who Edd had brought with him once he received news of the breach at East Watch, were faring better, but only slightly. Exhaustion and the bitter cold the Night King conjured had taken its toll on all of them and as Jon assessed the battlefield he knew that their death toll would only worsen. Without the time to burn them all, their dead would rise again to kill each other anew. 

If the cycle continued, they would lose. There was no other possible outcome. Immediately, Jon’s thoughts ran to Arya, Bran, and Sansa barricaded and protected by Brienne of Tarth and a handful of the few soldiers they could spare within the walls of Winterfell. But would they survive? Frustrated by his inability to find a means to the answer he wanted, Jon did the only thing that he could – kill every wight in his path. 

From afar Viserion released a horrifying wail of pain that faded into a deafening silence. A new storm raged as the Night King tightened the leather tourniquet on Viserion’s wing and took flight – headed straight for Dany with an ice spear in his hand.

***

Even from as far up as the walkway to the First Keep, Sansa could hear the wights growling and scratching at the gates of Winterfell. From the chaos below, there was no way for her to tell if anyone she loved or cared for was alive outside the castle walls.

If they get in when they get in, how will we survive, she wondered.

Sansa had been following the battle closely until the first of their dead began to rise again and it became too hard to tell friend from foe. She’d tried to keep her eye on Jon, but in the melee that erupted, she’d lost sight of him. Everything and everyone was covered in snow.

“Jon!” she cried out, but the bitter wind stole her screams.

“I see him!” Arya pointed beside her. “There! He’s alive.”

Tears welled in Sansa’s eyes. “All this time, I didn’t really believe him. I didn’t understand.”

Arya said nothing as she tracked her brother through the battle. She’d spent two days resenting being left behind the walls of Winterfell. 

“You are the last of the Starks. If we fall, you must defend our family,” Jon pleaded. Arya had stayed because she loved her brother, but now looking out at the chaos of the battlefield, she finally understood what he meant.

As a soldier and a woman, if he died, only her and Sansa could carry on the Stark name. Arya gripped Needle tightly and vowed she would not fail. Lady Brienne stood behind them, wanting just as Arya was, to do so much more than hide behind the castle walls.

“Lady Brienne, instruct the guards to take my sister and the others down to the crypts and seal the door, then meet me in the courtyard. We will defend Winterfell.”

Beside her, Sansa turned sharply. “No. Take Lady Mormont, Gilly, and the others, but not me.”

“Sansa, you’re the Lady of Winterfell. You must survive.”

“I’m a Stark,” Sansa corrected. “And, if we don’t win, none of us will survive.” From inside her cloak, Sansa produced a small dagger made of dragonglass.

“I’ll see the others to the crypt, My Lady,” Brienne answered, then moved swiftly down the stairs.

“What about Bran?” Sansa asked, knowing that he would not agree to be moved. 

Arya frowned, but could not escape the truth. “We need him where he is.”

“Then, I’ll go to him,” Sansa replied. 

On their way down the steps, the entire castle suddenly shook with the impact of something massive. 

“What was that?” Sansa cried after barely keeping herself from tumbling down the steps.

“Those are the dragons,” Arya replied before racing down the stairs.

***

Atop the Broken Tower, Sam stood at Bran’s side, watching him warg in and out of various animals and men on the battlefield. The Vale and the Night’s Watch archers continued to fire lit arrows and pitch on Sam’s command but making sure they only hit the dead was becoming harder and harder to do. 

Above them and in the thick of the storm, Dany wasn’t faring much better. With Viserion’s wing badly damaged, the Night King’s flight pattern was completely unpredictable, charging one moment, then reeling off course the next, all the while shooting flames at anything in his path.

Even with his erratic flight pattern, Viserion had burned half the archers on the Northern corridor of the castle to ash before Rheagal could stop him. But flying so close to Winterfell had cost him. Rhaegal rammed into Viserion just as he was making his assent, sending the Night King and his dragon crashing into the solid wall that made up Winterfell’s exterior. 

Viserion’s right wing thrashed about, then caught Rhaegal’s side, sending them both spiraling down to the ground. Pressing himself to the edge of the wall, Sam watched as they landed less than a hundred feet apart. To Sam, Rhaegal looked more stunned than hurt, but what did he know? Sam had never seen a dragon before two days ago. 

Beside Rhaegal, Viserion shrieked in agony. Unaccustomed to ignoring the cries of her children, Dany flew towards her dragons. She circled above where they lay on the ground, inspecting Rhaegal for any harm and in her distraction, the Night King took aim. 

The sudden motion of his arm helped Dany find him, hidden behind a snow bluff, but, by then, it was too late. She pivoted, banking hard to the right, away from the castle towers, but it was not enough. The javelin caught Drogon in the arm of his left wing. He shrieked as his body jerked back in pain, causing Dany to lose her grip and fall out into open sky. 

She landed on top of a deep snow bank that had been piled high the night before to ensure that supply wagons could make their way to the front lines. Though her initial landing was softer than she had any right to hope for, her body continued to roll down the mound until she hit the frozen ground hard. 

Dany could hear the small popping sound in her left forearm as it broke. The pain shot through her like a knife. Dazed from the shock of her fall, Dany, stumbled to her feet just in time to see the Night King descending upon her. Somewhere out of her line of sight, she could hear Drogon, howling in pain as he ripped the spear from his own arm with his teeth. Viserion’s mouth looked oddly misshapen as it gaped open, preparing to unleash his fire upon her. 

This is it, Dany thought with a strange sense of peace. The moment of my death.

From far across the battlefield, she could see Jon racing towards her, screaming her name, but there was no time and nowhere to run. Nothing left to do, but stand her ground and face the strange blue fire until Jorah threw himself between her and the blue flames, knocking them both to the ground as she screamed. 

Dany opened her eyes to find most of her clothes had burned away. Before her, Jorah was reduced to nothing more than a charred statue. Tears fell as she loosened her grip on his back to stroke the pained expression from Jorah’s face only to have him crumble to ash in her arms.

By then Rhaegal had recovered enough from his fall to bite Viserion by the back of his tail and fling him across the battlefield followed by a trail of fire in his wake, but Dany hardly noticed. Her dearest friend, her oldest confidante was dead.

When Greyworm reached her, Dany could no longer hold in her grief. Greyworm covered her with the cloak that Missandei had given him to fend off the cold, then ran with his Queen back to Winterfell. From across the battlefield, Jon watched in terror, then followed them in. 

***

As the only person with any medical training, Tyrion exchanged places with Sam so that he could go to the First Keep and care for Dany. 

“It looks like a broken arm,” Sam announced after a quick assessment. “A clean break, by the looks of things. I can set it for you, but I don’t know where Maester Wolkan kept the Milk of the Poppy.”

Still in shock from the death of Jorah, Dany could barely speak. Outside, she heard the screams of the living and the screeching of the dead like a mad symphony. 

“No, I need to be able to fly. My dragons. Where are my dragons?”

“Your dragons are fine, Your Grace,” Sam assured her. “The big one looks a bit hurt but he’s still stomping about, breathing fire on anything that comes near him, and the smaller one is flying around, looking for you, I think.”

“I should be out there. I need to get back to them.”

“Your Grace…” Missandei began before Sam intervened.

“That’s not a very good idea,” Sam warned as he tightened the bandage around her arm. The pain brought tears to her eyes, but Dany refused to let them fall.

“I need to fly,” she said again to no one in particular.

“Daenerys, I don’t think that’s going to happen.” Jon could not hide the relief on his face as he walked in and sat down beside her.

Her expression mirrored his as she saw him, frozen and bruised, but still alive. The heat from his body next to hers reminded her of what was at stake if she could not return to battle.

“We’re losing, Jon, and we can’t afford to lose.”

“We’re not dead, yet,” was all he could muster as he leaned closer. Jon took her hand in his just as Beric rushed into the door.

“Jon, we have to leave. We’re losing too many men. It’s time.”

Escape? Jon could barely comprehend the words as he turned to Beric angrily. 

“And go where? This is my home. Everything that means anything to me is here.” Jon tightened his grip on Dany’s hand, but Beric only smiled, looking no less weary after two days of battle.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. It’s time for you and me to face our destiny. It’s time to kill the Night King.”

Jon could hear it all around him, the grunts and the screams of the living. Over the last hour, they’d grown less and less, despite the reinforcement of RiverRun’s army and all the brave men and women who fought. 

“How? He flew away after attacking Daenerys. How can I get to him when he’s probably a hundred miles away by now?” 

“You fly,” Dany answered from beside him.

Jon turned to find Dany’s eyes blazing into his as she tightened her grip on his hand.

“Take Rhaegal, find the Night King, and end this, Jon.” 

“They’re your children. No one can fly them but you. I’m not a Targaryen.”

“But, you are…” Sam blurted out before Dany could argue. The entire room turned to Sam in shock.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you like this. I know it’s not the right time, but it’s true. Your father – I mean Ned Stark kept it from you all these years to protect you – to keep Robert Baratheon from killing you on sight.”

“What are you talking about, Sam? There’s no time for games.” 

Sam sighed, knowing there was no easy way to say what needed to be said.

“What I’m saying is you’re not Ned Stark’s bastard. You never were. You’re the trueborn son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. She was never kidnapped. They loved each other, Jon. They were married in a secret ceremony after Rhaegar’s marriage to Elia was annulled. Your parents died protecting you, Jon. Your father at the Trident and your mother, after you were born. She made Ned Stark promise to protect you.” 

Dany was the first to turn from Sam to Jon and drop his hand. He’s Rhaegar’s own. My brother’s son. I’m in love with my brother’s son. Slowly, she lay back down on the bed as Jon got to his feet, reeling, but determined to keep his balance.

“That’s not true. It can’t be. My father would have told me.”

“He couldn’t. He couldn’t risk Robert finding out. He knew Robert was determined to kill every living Targaryen. Ned knew that if Robert found out – if he’d trusted anyone with the heir to the Iron Throne - you would have been killed. I know it sounds crazy, but Bran’s seen it and I confirmed it at the Citadel before I even knew what it meant. Jon, I swear it. You’ve never been what you thought you were.”

Jon had yet to meet Dany’s gaze or anyone else’s. She could only imagine what he must be feeling. To her, he looked frozen in disbelief, but she knew, now more than ever, that what he needed to do was right.

“Jon take Rhaegal and go. He’ll let you. I know he will. You are of the dragon, too.”

Finally, he met her eyes with a lost gaze of his own that was a million miles from where he stood. “I can’t…”

She needed to bring him back, but how? Panic gripped her as she realized she didn’t have the words to reach him, but then she remembered the one thing that drove Jon no matter what it cost him.

“Am I still your Queen?” Dany asked with as much authority as she could muster. 

Immediately, she could see the shift in his eyes. Just as she’d hoped, duty, honor, his word, brought him back to her. 

“Always,” he replied.

“Then I command you to ride, to be The Prince That Was Promised.” 

“Daenerys…I don’t…” 

“Listen to me!” She forced herself upright again on the bed. “It doesn’t matter what you believe. I believe in you! The North believes in you! Be whatever you have to be. Be what we need you to be.”

“What if he won’t follow me?” 

Jon would try. She knew this, but he still couldn’t see his way. She wanted to take his hand, but the thought of what it should mean, but couldn’t anymore held her where she sat. But she still knew how to reach him. 

“They’ll all come to see you for what you are,” she said softly. 

It took a moment for the words to sink in, for Jon to receive the gift he had given her returned, but eventually she reached him and he returned to exactly where he needed to be. The faintest smile between them was all that was needed. Jon bent down beside her bed and kissed her hand. 

“I will find him and I will finish this.”

“I know you will,” she replied.

Jon did not look back as he flew from the room so that Beric had to hurry to catch up, but before he could meet Jon at the stairs, Sam called him back. 

“Sir Beric! Sir Beric, wait! You’ll need this.”

When Beric turned Sam was standing directly behind, with Heartsbane extended out to him. 

“If you’re going to kill a White Walker, you’ll need Valerian steel. It’s the only thing that will stand against their weapons.”

***

Outside the castle’s Northern Gate, the line between the living and the dead seemed less than the breadth of one heartbeat. The gate had yet to collapse, but Jon knew that it was only a matter of time. The dead were closing in. As he ran towards the place where he’d last seen the dragons, Jon caught sight of Jaime. 

“Pull them back before we’re completely overrun,” he ordered.

Jaime nodded. “Where are you going?”

“To kill the Night King. It’s our only chance. Hold them off as long as you can.”

Jaime wanted to say something to this young man who was so clearly riding off to his death, but words escaped him as he watched Jon and Beric disappear into a squall of snow. 

“There he is,” Beric called, looking up with amazement as Rhaegal circled then landed in front of them. North men and the dead scattered leaving a clear path for them to follow.

“How does she do it? Does she just call them with her mind?”

“I have no idea,” Jon admitted as he moved forward slowly. Beric watched Jon remove his glove. At first, Rhaegal snarled, then cocked his head to the side as Jon lifted his bare hand higher. Beric stepped back as the dragon began to approach, shaking the ground between them, but Jon couldn’t afford to back away. From farther down the battlefield, Drogon roared and, to Jon’s surprise, by the time Rhaegal reached him, the dragon turned and lowered his wing just as he had seen Drogon do for Dany. 

With the memory of Dany’s command echoing in his ear, Jon rushed towards Rhaegal and mounted him.

“Amazing,” Beric remarked as the beast settled beneath Jon. 

“Let’s go,” Jon whispered just before Rhaegal took flight, lifting them into the heart of the storm.

***

With Arya and Greyworm’s assistance, Dany made it back on to the battlefield in time to see Jon and Rhaegal’s assent. Sam, Greyworm, and Missandei had tried to stop her from rejoining the fight, but Dany insisted and Arya spoke up for her.

“My entire family is on the battlefield,” Dany began, rising to her feet. Dany did not say their names, but there was no need. Those around her understood her meaning perfectly. “And as long as I have life to give, I will do what I can to see that they survive.”

“Let her go if that’s what she wants,” Arya added, standing beside Dany. “She is the Dragon Queen. She has the right to choose her death just the same as any man.” 

Drogon welcomed her on his back as she took her perch gingerly, with a one-handed grip. Below her, Drogon stood with his left wing tucked closely to his body to protect his wound.

Dany stroked his neck gently to soothe him. “It’s ok. We both have clipped wings, but that won’t stop us, will it?”

Drogon roared in response and the terrible sound gave her new life. Shifting Drogon’s position towards a throng of wights heading over the hill, Dany smiled. 

“Dracarys!”


	3. The Long Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winterfell is breached. House Stark and its allies make their final stand.

Chapter 5: The Long Night

After making sure that Dany was safely on her dragon, Arya headed back to Winterfell to shore up its defenses. With Drogon effectively stemming the tide of wights that made it over the ridge, the Northern forces finally had time to regroup. The men and women of Wintertown rushed in to bring the wounded back to safety and dispose of the dead. Makeshift piles of burning bodies littered the battlefield. Now that they knew the Night King’s strategy, they could not afford to wait until the battle was done. If more dead were raised, there would be no coming back for any of them.

Even with these precautions, there were still too many walking in the Night King’s army to think that the gates of Winterfell would not eventually be breached. By the time Arya made it back to the gate, Brienne and Podrick had already killed and burned two in the courtyard.

“They’re testing our defenses, my Lady. I fear more will find a way in soon.”

“I know,” Arya replied. 

From the Broken Tower, Edd sounded the horn that Tyrion had passed to him. All eyes turned to the East as they watched four giants walk the length of the valley in just a few terrible strides. Edd knew all too well what they could do. He’d seen it firsthand. To make matters worse, in between the giants were six pale ice spiders, as big as hounds, crawling across the snowy plains. Behind the latest wave of the Night King’s army rode seven White Walkers armed with ice spears.

“Fall Back! To The Gate! Fall Back!” Edd screamed.

In the silence of their collective shock, his words could be heard throughout the battlefield. Jamie, Gendry, Greyworm, and the Blackfish echoed his command as the Northmen, the Tully army, the Dothraki, and the Unsullied ran towards Winterfell. 

Dany was the last to leave, burning as many wights as she could to give the others time to escape. She even managed to kill two spiders before Drogon began to run. Painfully, he took flight just as one of the giants reached out to pluck them from the air. 

Drogon shrieked as he banked hard to evade the Giant’s grasp and Dany felt the pain it caused him all through her body. She suddenly felt sick. Closing her eyes against a wave of nausea, Dany silently pleaded for Drogon to climb. Her heart raced as she felt the cold freshness of air on her cheek that signaled he’d made it high enough to glide above the castle walls, but she could not rejoice. She needed what little strength she had left to land Drogon safely in the courtyard. The last thing she remembered before losing consciousness was Drogon’s feet touching the ground. 

***

The thought of a dragon fighting at her back should have startled Brienne, but after everything she’d witnessed in the last two days, she knew if she lived to see another day, nothing would surprise her ever again. 

Brienne made her stance at the South Gate. To her left was the legendary Blackfish. To her right, Jaime Lannister who stood beside Gendry, bastard son of Robert Baratheon, and Arya Stark. Tully, Lannister, Baratheon, Stark, and Targaryen (if you counted the dragon), all mixed together with a phalanx of Northmen and Dothraki, Wildlings, and Unsullied. They stood side-by-side with nothing in common except the dragonglass they held in their hands and the will to live long enough to see the morning sun break through the clouds.

The Night King had reduced an army of 50,000 men and women to 10,000 in just two days. Those who remained were scattered across Winterfell’s 4 gates and all the walls in between. The remaining archers, led by the Vale and the Night’s Watch, spread out to match the formation outside the castle walls where the dead now surrounded them on all sides. Time froze as White Walkers stood at the front of each gate with ice swords in their hands until, at the beckoning of some sign no living man could fathom, the army of the dead rushed forth. 

From the castle battlements, soldiers threw down pitch, barrels, and rocks, but for every few wights that fell, two more took its place until they piled up on each other and began to cross over. 

The guards at the North gate were able to set one giant ablaze, but the remaining giants tore through the east and south gates. Drogon set the giant at the south gate alight as soon as he breached the threshold, creating a wall of flame none but the White Walkers could pass. The Blackfish got to him first and died before his first blow fell as the White Walker shattered the Blackfish’s sword, then cut his head off with his spear of ice. Learning quickly, Brienne and Jaime charged the White Walker together, while those around them began to take on the wights that were slowly breaking through. 

They fought in the Godswood. They fought on the wall. They fought in the courtyard, and the Sept, until there were bodies of the dying and the dead everywhere, but it did not seem to stem the tide. 

On top the wall, Bran divided his attention between warging into Drogon to help direct his dragon fire to the places that needed it most and monitoring Jon, while Tyrion stood at the Three-Eyed Raven’s side, trying his best to keep Bran alive. The closeness of death was overwhelming, yet Bran fought to keep his focus and his hope that Jon would be successful in his quest.

Hurry, Jon. There isn’t much time left.

 

***

Dany had no memory of how she and Drogon made it back to the courtyard at Winterfell or how she ended up lying in bed, but when she opened her eyes, the first face she saw was Sam’s. 

“Oh, look! She’s up! See, I told you she’d be all right.”

Missandei’s frowning face came into view. 

“Your Grace, are you all right? Are you hurt?”

“Yes…I mean, I don’t think so. What happened? Why am I here?

“You fainted, Your Grace,” Missandei replied. “Don’t you remember?”

“Yes. Yes,” Sam chimed in as he edged Missandei out of view. “If you’ll excuse me, I just need to check a few things. Like I said, there’s nothing to worry about. It’s all quite normal, you see, because of the baby.”

Dany narrowed her eyes. “What child? I was riding Drogon and then I suddenly felt sick. There was no child.” 

“Well, not yet. It’s early still, isn’t it? Give it another 7-8 months I suspect. But, if you need something for the sickness, I could find some peppermint leaves to calm your stomach. Gilly says…” Sam trailed off as he watched Dany’s face shift from annoyance to complete shock.

“You didn’t know you were pregnant?”

“That’s not possible. I can’t have children. She told me.” Tears began to form, but Dany would not let them fall. She would not give in to this impossible hope.

“Well, whoever she is was not very well informed, I’m afraid. I completed my training in female anatomy and gestation at the Citadel and I’m sure I’m not wrong about this. Not only can you have children, you are having children. I mean at least one.”

Dany was speechless as she turned to Missandei whose happiness was evident, but strained. 

“What is it, Missandei? Tell me.”

“The army of the dead is here, Your Grace. The castle has been breached.”

Dany scanned the room looking for Jon. With Sansa, Tyrion, GreyWorm, and Arya gaping at her in disbelief, the chamber was suddenly much more crowded than she realized. 

Then, she remembered. Jon had already left with Rhaegal to put an end to what was happening all around them, fighting for the living and those yet to come. Though she was disappointed by not being able to tell Jon first, nothing could tarnish the joy of this new possibility.

Arya stepped forward with wide, curious eyes that were so unlike the foreboding stares from Tyrion and Sansa that threatened to pierce through her happiness. 

“Is it Jon’s?” Arya asked.

“There is no other,” Dany replied. Just behind Arya, Tyrion looked furious, Sansa skeptical, and Greyworm truly surprised. Only Missandei wore a slight, but knowing smile.

“But, you’re his aunt...” Sansa blurted out before Arya shot her a lethal glare.

“We didn’t know,” Dany replied, more to herself than Sansa. The revelation of Jon’s true heritage, of her own pregnancy was so new, she’d hardly had a moment to formulate a defense against the misgivings of others. All she knew, all that mattered to her now was that she loved Jon and he had given her the one thing she never thought she could have. 

Still, Dany was surprised to hear Sam speak up in their defense. 

“Well, Jon is a Targaryen. Coupling between close relatives was not uncommon.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Arya snapped as she leveled her gaze on Sansa. “Jon is and will always be our brother. If Daenerys is carrying his child, that makes her a part of our family. In Winter, we look after one another. We stick together. ” 

Beside Dany, Ghost snuggled closer.

Arya’s words seemed to jolt Sansa out of her daze.

“Yes…of course,” she began. “We should find someplace safe.”

“There is no place safe,” Arya answered. “But we can fight together for as long as we can.”

Greyworm nodded in agreement. “We need to keep them away from this chamber for as long as possible. We cannot stay here and let them back us into a corner. I will go and lead them away.”

“Then, I’ll come with you,” Missandei said moving to his side.

“No!” Greyworm said stepping in front of Missandei to block her from the door. “Please Missandei, for me. I need to know you are safe.”

She wanted to protest, but Missandei had never seen him look so desperate. How could she refuse him? To her surprise, the moment she nodded in agreement, Greyworm grabbed her and kissed her until Tyrion cleared his throat.

“Yes, please! I think Missandei, Sansa, Arya, and the Queen should stay here. If something should happen to any of you…we’re all lost.” Though his words were directed at the women in the room, all his attention was focused on Dany. 

“Well, I’m going with you,” Arya said drawing her sword and Valerian dagger. Tyrion’s first thought was to protest, but then it occurred to him that she looked more capable holding a sword than he did. 

We’ll need all the help we can get, he realized.

“If we want to stop them, we must leave now!” Greyworm ordered before opening the door.

Tyrion and Arya rushed out as Greyworm took one last glance at Missandei before closing the door and locking them inside. 

***  
Greyworm, Arya, and Tyrion met their first wight coming up the stairs of the Great Keep. After clearing the stairwell, they made their way down to the courtyard, only to find that it was completely overrun. Immediately, Greyworm and Arya threw themselves into battle, while Tyrion took a moment to survey the chaos around them. 

Across the courtyard, he saw Jaime and Brienne fending off two White Walkers. Brienne was just closing in on her opponent when the other White Walker stabbed Jamie in the chest. His blood spilled out across the dirt and snow as he fell to the ground then crawled on his belly to get away. The shock of seeing Jaime thrown down almost distracted Brienne from the ice blue shimmer of her opponent’s sword. He brought the knife’s edge down upon her with frightening speed, but she was quicker still. Thinking of Arya, Brienne shifted to her side just as the blow fell, then sprang forward to plunge Oathkeeper into the White Walker’s chest, shattering him to pieces. Brienne felt no victory and spared no backward glance as she ran. 

Across the yard, unable to fight past the throngs of wights between them, Tyrion watched in terror as the scene of his brother’s death unfolded. 

Tyrion and Brienne both knew that Jaime would die. The trail of blood that melted the snow underneath him was so bright it burned Brienne’s eyes to see it. Yet, Jaime’s arms moved frantically as he tried to get away from the White Walker that was pursuing him with leisurely menace. Brienne’s only hope was to get there in time to ease his passing. Slowly, the White Walker raised his hand and prepared to plunge his ice spear into Jaime’s back. 

But Brienne would never allow it. Not while there was warm blood still running through her veins. She launched herself between them, swinging Oathkeeper across her body with a force she barely recognized. With her first swing, she managed to block the White Walker’s spear, deflecting it from Jaime’s path. 

Taken aback, the White Walker stumbled. Brienne stepped forward slashing her sword across his chest. She did not wait to see the last of the shards fall. Instead, she turned and found Jaime half hoisted on the side of a barrel and staring at her with relief. She rushed to his side, holding him close while careful not to upset the wound at his chest. 

“Jaime,” she began. “I…”

“Thank you for saving me, for wanting to save me. No one has ever done that before you.”

“I should have done more. I should have fought closer to you.”

“Truly, you could not have,” he replied raising a bloodstained hand to wipe away her tears. “You can’t save a man who doesn’t want to be saved and I don’t think I was ready for you to save me until just now. My timing is terrible, I’m afraid.” 

For a moment, she couldn’t think of what to say. With Renly, it had been too late. She could not make the same mistake again.

“I love you, Sir Jaime, as truly and honorably as a woman can.”

“I’ve never known love without shame…before you. Can you accept the love of a Kingslayer?”

His voice shook as the pain in his belly surged, then faded away. His body was cold, but he could barely feel it anymore. 

“I can,” she whispered as Jaime drew her close to share his last breath with a kiss.

Sinking to his knees, Tyrion cried as he watched Brienne cradle the only hero he’d ever known in her arms as the Great War raged on around them. Brienne buried her tears against Jaime’s frozen cheek as the storm covered their flaxen hair in snow. 

***  
Greyworm and the few soldiers he could rally tried their best to keep the wights out of The Great Keep, but one-by-one, his men were surrounded, swamped, then killed until only he remained with a mob of ten wights standing against him. He did not know how he would survive, but behind him stood a locked door that within held his life, the meaning of everything he had become and wanted to be. If he failed, Missandei would die and he could not allow that to happen. 

As if sensing his resolve, they rushed him all at once. 

Greyworm took the first two down with little effort, but while he was occupied with a third, another wight snuck past and tried to choke him from behind. Thrown off balance, Greyworm was about to dash the creature into the wall beside him when a flash of motion came from his right. Too quick to be a wight, he looked over to find the girl they called Arya reaching over his back with a dagger. The wight crumbled behind him into a heap on the ground. 

And then there were two fighting off the remaining six wights together. They made quick work of them, but more came to take their place and once again Greyworm and Arya were overrun.

A pair of wights grabbed Arya and threw her against the wall, where she crashed, dazed and bloody with her weapon too far away to grasp. 

Four wights held Greyworm to the ground by his limbs as another advanced, breaking down the door, even as Greyworm held on to the edges of its ragged clothing, desperate to hold him back. The wight’s clothing ripped from his grasp just as the door flew open.

“No!” Greyworm roared as if fury alone could keep her safe.

From the ground where they struggled to hold him down, Greyworm saw his Queen and his love standing on top of the bed. Daenerys held her broken arm protectively over her stomach while gripping Missandei’s hand with the other. In front of the bed, Sansa stood her ground, stabbing the wight that come towards her in the chest with her dagger. His dying scream seized the attention of the four wights that had been trying to slowly rip Greyworm apart.

Stampeding over him, they rushed into the room, almost crushing him underfoot. Still, at the sound of Missandei’s scream, he reached out to her in vain. In the rush, Sansa was knocked to the ground. Fighting for her own life, Sansa could not reach the other wights who snarled and snapped at Missandei and Dany like rabid animals. Ghost leaped off the bed, taking another down, which left nothing between Missandei, Dany and two wights that were now only an arm’s length away. 

***

The squall of snow was unrelenting, almost as if the storm itself was holding them back. 

“Is this the Night King?” Beric asked from behind. Jon’s silence was all the answer he needed. 

In front, Jon was frightened. Not for his own life, but for the lives of everyone he left behind and the dragon that bore them. Instinctively, he knew the Night King would have no trouble finding them in the midst of the blizzard. Blinding them, Jon suspected, was his purpose.

With his eyes of no use, Jon closed them, choosing instead to rely on his other senses until he heard a noise that was unlike the whirling confetti of sound that had been with them ever since they took flight from Winterfell.

The sound was vaguely familiar though in mid-air it made no sense. Beneath him, he could feel Rhaegal tense. 

“I hear it too, boy.” Jon hoped the dragon’s eyes were sharper than his. Rhaegal roared in response. Instantly, Jon opened his eyes to follow the direction of the dragon’s cries and saw it – a brief shimmer of ice in the snow. 

Jon flinched at the sight of it. The javelin was too close to give him a chance to utter a command, yet somehow Rhaegal knew exactly what he meant. In a split second, Rhaegal lifted his right wing high in the air, evading the spear and spinning them almost vertical to the ground. The dragon scales beneath their legs were hard as rocks, painful to the skin, yet their grooves proved the perfect grips for their thighs and feet as Jon and Beric held on for dear life.

Just as they were sure they would crash, Rhaegal shot up, lifting them high into the air once again. Jon grinned despite himself. The connection between him and the dragon was thrilling – vital. Jon could only imagine what it must feel like for Dany to do this all the time. Pushing forward he saw a ridge where they could land safely and dove down before the Night King could strike again. 

Viserion, or what remained of him, was next, aiming a stream of blue fire in their direction from the opposite end of the ridge where the Night King stood.

Again Rhaegal saved them, shifting his wing to absorb most of the flame while answering Viserion’s attack with a fiery deluge of his own that left the undead dragon writhing in pain and allowed them to land safely. 

As soon as they were on the ground, Jon and Beric ran towards the Night King, swords drawn. The Night King watched their approach dispassionately as he picked up two swords from the ground and held them in each hand as he waited. 

Jon swung first testing his Valerian steel against the Night King’s weapons. Long Claw held against his blows, but unlike the other White Walkers Jon had fought, the Night King was agile in his sword fighting. He defended himself against Beric and Jon with a speed and strength that was better than any living man Jon had ever seen. 

In the back of his mind, Jon remembered his father’s stories of Sir Arthur Dayne and the Sword of the Morning. He could not imagine Sir Dayne being any worse than the Night King, yet his father had beaten him and somehow he would, too. Jon refocused his stance just as Beric lunged. 

As the attack unfolded, Jon could see everything that went wrong, from Beric’s footing to his stance before the attack– the last lunge Beric Dundarrion would ever make. The Night King avoided him easily with an upward flick of his sword that sent Heartsbane sailing out of Beric’s hand to land with its sharp edge up just 5 paces away from where they stood. His next move was even quicker as he lashed out with the ice sword in his left hand.

Beric was cut from the right side of his neck to the left side of his hip, with only a thin river of red across his snow-encrusted coat to connect the two points on his body. Dazed by the blow and the unfamiliar certainty of death, Beric spun around, then collapsed on his sword. 

The Night King resumed his passive position as Jon rushed over to Beric’s side. From his back, Jon could see that the sword had gone straight through him, so he didn’t expect Beric’s knowing gaze to meet him when Jon turned him over. Yet, Beric’s expression looked so peaceful that Jon almost didn’t believe he was alive until he spoke.

“May the Lord of Light shine upon you, my friend,” Beric whispered before exhaling what Jon felt sure was his last breath until his eyes rolled back and Beric spoke again. 

“Hurry, Jon. There isn’t much time left.”

The tone, even the voice, was wrong within Beric’s normally jovial baritone, yet, somehow Jon found it strangely familiar. Desperate to understand, Jon held on to Beric’s lifeless body as if its lingering warmth would somehow bring him clarity, but the sound of the Night King approaching stopped all his wondering. Jon turned just in time to block his blow with Long Claw.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jon saw the 2nd sword coming up in the Night King’s right hand. Without a thought, Jon reached for the sword that was buried deep in Beric’s chest and pulled it forth. Heartsbane burst into a flame that was as bright as the sun. Dazzled by the light, both men froze for an instant before The Night King sprang forward.

Jon had never been so grateful for the instincts he’d honed as a fighter, allowing his body to protect itself while his mind hovered in silent wonder at the burning sword in his hand. 

Beric’s words. A flaming sword. What is happening, Jon wondered despite knowing that there was no time to sort out the answer to his question. The Night King and the King in the North circled each other until Jon forced the awe from his mind and attacked. The moment Heartsbane’s blaze touched the edge of the Night King’s sword it shattered. 

Again, both men shared a moment of stunned silence before the Night King intensified the storm around them, but Jon no longer felt it. His eyes were fixed on Heartsbane’s flame until an idea came to him and he brought both swords together.

Longclaw came alive with fire.

Jon could feel the heat from the swords radiating through his body as if he were connected to something powerful – something larger than himself. Jon did not know if he would live or die, but the sensation felt like destiny – the reason he had been born at all. 

The Night King lunged again and as before, when Jon knocked the blow away, Longclaw shattered the Night King’s second sword. Instantly, the snowstorm swarmed around Jon, so that he couldn’t see anything except the two blazes of fire in his fists.

Where is he? 

Inside the blizzard that surrounded him, there was an unnatural silence as if he had dropped into the center of some dark abyss. Fear gripped Jon as he realized an attack could come from any direction. No sooner had he finished the thought than his skin exploded in a rash of pain that spread from the tips of his toes to the tender flesh of his scalp. The pain was familiar, as if he was back underneath the frozen lake beyond the Wall, being stabbed by a thousand shards of frozen water. He held his breath against the pain as he’d done then and listened for any sign of breath or movement, but there was none.

This is magic, Jon thought, dark magic. The only thing that is real is in my hands. He lifted Long Claw and Heartsbane into the air. The swords themselves seemed to become flame, burning brightly against the darkness that surrounded him. 

I am the sword in the darkness, Jon recited silently as he closed his eyes and used his senses. I am the Watcher on the Wall.

He heard the swing come up from the ground.

Unable to see past the light of his swords, Jon forced himself to believe it was enough. It had to be. He shifted his body away from the sound and felt the Night King’s weapon slice past his left shoulder.

“I am the fire that burns against the cold.”

Jon swung out, hitting something and slicing it clean.

Suddenly, they were back in the snowstorm and the Night King was holding one long spear in the only hand he had left. On the ground between them, lay a frozen forearm consumed by flame in the melting snow. 

“I am the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers.” 

Jon attacked as the Night King lunged forward. Jon struck out with Long Claw, breaking the spear and severing the Night King’s right hand before his blow could fall.

“I am the shield that guards the realms of men and the Long Night is over!” Jon shouted into the storm as he brought both swords down across the Night King’s shoulders, breaking his body into a thousand shards of ice and flame.

For a moment, Jon simply hovered in triumphant disbelief as the blizzard that once engulfed them died at his feet. The air around him was still frigid, yet as Jon raised his head and tried to fill his lungs, he noticed that the sky was remarkably clear, as if the Great War itself had been a nightmare of his own imagining. But the need to breathe more deeply brought pain – a pain he had not felt until now. 

His head felt heavy as he lowered his gaze to his side. He could not see the wound, but he could trace the puddle of his own blood in the snow. 

Red like a dragon, Jon thought, as he collapsed to his knees. At the horizon, he could see the first hints of pale blue. Dawn. Jon smiled. He had died this death once already, but unlike before there was no sorrow in it. She will live. They will live. His eyes stayed open as his body fell to the ground. 

The chill of the soft ground against his cheek comforted him.

I am the dragon and the snow, Jon thought as the earth beneath him trembled and fire burned his vision black.

***

They had come close enough for Dany to see the reflection of her own death in their eyes just before the four wights in her chamber collapsed, returning the world to silence once more.

As soon as Dany saw them disintegrate before her, she knew. Immediately, Dany climbed down from the bed. The bones underneath her feet did nothing to impede her as she walked past the spontaneous celebrations that erupted throughout the castle with Ghost close at her side. From the hallway of The Great Keep to the courtyard, the ground was covered with bodies. Dany swept past the dead and the living, pulling her cloak tighter against the cold air that had lost its former malice. 

From the corner of her eye, she saw Tormund looking through a flaming pyre of bodies. Alarmed by the strange intensity of his gaze, Dany’s followed his gaze across the fire and smoke towards a tall woman with a shock of matted yellow hair. Dany watched with pity as his worn face broke into a smile that spoke of the simple joy he felt at seeing someone he knew alive and though the woman’s eyes were red with grief, Dany lingered just long enough to see Brienne of Tarth slowly find the strength within her to smile back. 

Jon had saved their lives, yet something inside her would not settle. Who will save the father of my child, she wondered.

With Drogon unable to fly, Dany knew there was no way to find him, but that was only half the problem. Even if she could fly, with her arm broken and her grip less than steady, there were more precious things at stake than she was willing to risk. Dany was sure that Jon would have felt the same way, too… If he finds out...

The thought of Jon never knowing the miracle they had created together made it hard to breathe. As she climbed the staircase to the Broken Tower, Dany resolved not to let the thought enter her mind again, as if the power of her own thoughts would be enough to keep Jon alive. 

I will not give up on him. He will return, she thought as she took up her position on the tower. Like before, he will come back to us. He has to...

Daenerys did not know how long she stood waiting. The fury of the snow had ceased leaving a tranquil drift that lifted then settled over the piles of dead bodies that littered the landscape around Winterfell. On the horizon, the sun cast a pale yellow glow from behind the clouds that lingered. From above Dany watched as Drogon lit each mound on fire.

The Prince That Was Promised had brought the dawn after all, she mused. The Night King was dead. That was the only explanation for the sudden death of every wight within sight of Winterfell. Jon had not failed to keep his word, but she had not told him to come back. 

How could I have not said the words, she worried silently as the morning sun grew higher in the sky. Was it the shock of learning that she had fallen in love with her nephew or simply her single-minded focus on what needed to be done, or perhaps it was just plain stupidity?

Jon had asked her to be careful, to return to him. Surely, he knew her desire would be the same, wouldn’t he, she reasoned, but the words meant nothing without him beside her.

In her grief, she had not heard Lady Mormont join her vigil. 

“If it please, Your Grace, I will wait beside you until our King returns.”

Dany turned to her and nodded, understanding the gesture, but unable to give voice to her gratitude. She could do nothing until Jon returned. Eventually, Greyworm, Missandei, Sam, Sansa, and Arya had all come to stand beside her and share in her hope and her dread.

With the mid-day sun blocking her vision, Dany heard Rhaegal’s voice piercing the air before she caught the first streak of his green wings against the blue, late-morning sky. Everyone, from the courtyard to the battlefield below, stopped what they were doing, shielded their eyes, and looked up. 

The despair from the first full glance of her child stole Dany’s breath away. She could not see Jon riding atop him until Rhaegal landed in front of the North gate and Dany looked down to find Jon lain haphazardly on Rhaegal’s back. Across the field, Drogon’s answering cry shook the castle walls, announcing for anyone who did not already know that the King in the North had returned.


	4. House Targaryen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The North and its Allies recover from the War for the Dawn.

Chapter 6: House Targaryen

Though the Long Night was over, Sam felt as if his watch still had not ended. The shift in climate was almost jarring as the snows tapered, then ceased within a week. A bitter wind still ruled the air during the late night and early morning, but it was nothing more than a dying man’s bluff. The lakes of the North had already begun to thaw, prompting the Lady of Winterfell to seek Sam’s advice on crops to plant in the coming Spring. 

Between managing the constant communication between Winterfell, the Citadel, and the rest of Westeros and caring for the injured as the new acting Maester of Winterfell, Sam and Gilly barely had a moment to rest. But all those duties were secondary to his greatest charge, carrying for his best friend, Jon, who had been in and out of a terrible fever for the better part of a week. 

But, at least, in Jon’s care, Sam had more hands than he could possibly put to work. Sansa and Arya bought cool towels and food every hour, even though there were countless servants who could have done the task for them. Sir Davos and Gendry changed his bed linens and submerged Jon in ice baths everyday to break the fever. Even the Dothraki and the Unsullied, who Jon had fought beside enough to earn their respect, offered their own medicines towards his healing. And every night, after Greyworm had fallen asleep, Missandei would sit by Jon’s bedside, offering food and comfort to the one person who never left Jon’s side.

Once it was clear that the Great War was over, the Northern Lords grieved their dead while finally acknowledging the worthiness of their new Queen. Daenerys Targaryen had fought for them, alongside them with the might of her dragons and her armies. She had lost men, been wounded in battle, and kept fighting. No one who was left in Winterfell had any doubt as to why their King had bent the knee to secure the North’s survival. Without her, they would have perished. 

Upon Jon’s return, each of the surviving lords went out of their way to convey their allegiance, but Dany could not find it within herself to make time for any of them. The truth was that without Jon, she would never have come and without Jon, their loyalty meant nothing to her. 

***

“Your Grace, it’s mid-day. Perhaps you should rest awhile. It’s not good to exhaust yourself in your condition,” Sam offered as he stood just outside Jon’s chamber door.

Daenerys had heard the same advice on the lips of others, yet she could not move. Other than some water and a few bites of bread, she had not eaten all day. It took every ounce of energy she had to fight back the growing despair of déjà vu. It seemed to her that not so long ago she was in the same position, sitting at the side of a bed waiting to lose the man she loved.

But if she was being honest with herself, the situation now was much worse. Dany had learned to love Drogo out of necessity. Jon, she had decided firmly not to love, even as she was drawn to him during their very first meeting. Her heart had opened to him despite her best efforts to hold it back. His respect for her, even in opposition, his kindness, his goodness was undeniable. And when he finally came to her, he did not insist, he placed himself at her doorstep and waited for her to decide. 

It was only in their coming together that first night on the journey from Dragonstone to White Harbor that she realized that Jon was the first man, the only man she had ever truly loved. 

And now, we’ve made a child.

The thought of never getting to look into his eyes again and tell him about the miracle they created was a tragedy she could not bear. Every Targaryen left in the world was in this room with her. She couldn’t leave him if she wanted to. 

“Your Grace…you must -”

“Thank you, Sam. If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk with the Queen alone.”

Daenerys turned to find Bran staring back at her. Since she’d met Bran, his gaze was always the same kind of strange, as if he could see right through her. It still made her uncomfortable, but if he had news, any news of when Jon might recover, she would happily endure it.

Sam slipped further out into the hall then closed the door behind him with barely a sound.

“I know how much this child means to you. You should rest.”

“How could you know that?” Dany asked defensively. Unless you have suffered what I have suffered, you could not know.

“Because I saw what you sacrificed in Lhazar. I saw you walk into the flames and birth three dragons. I saw you risk those dragons to save Jon beyond the Wall and I saw it cost you the life of one of your children. ‘The only children I’ll ever have,’ you told Jon. Yet now you carry my cousin in your womb. You should rest. Ghost and I will stay with Jon until you return.”

Dany was speechless as she listened to Bran recount the worst moments of her life as if he had been there. She wanted to protest his trespasses into her most personal horrors, but she found herself too exhausted for the fight. 

Instead, she walked from the room, feeling naked and drained, then closed the door behind her.

When he was sure they were alone, Bran brought himself closer to Jon’s bed, so that his wheelchair stopped right next to Jon’s chest. He looked at Jon for several moments, feeling the turmoil of the fever and infection in his body. Yet, Bran knew that Jon was stronger than all of these things. Bran closed his eyes and spoke directly into Jon’s thoughts

It is time to get up, Jon. You must break free of this doubt and rise.

Bran? Is that you? I can’t see. Where am I?

You’re at Winterfell in your bed. You’ve been ill, but your fever has finally broken. It’s time to get up. You have ended the Great War, but another gathers that you must be ready to fight.

I’m tired, Bran. I’m tired of fighting. I was your brother. Now, I don’t know who I am. 

Bran was silent for a moment, remembering the boy he had been and how much all his siblings had meant to him. It was a faint memory, but he could still feel its importance. 

You are still my brother, Bran replied. You are who you have always been, Jon. Nothing has changed except now you know the truth of who you are and who you were meant to be. 

And, who is that? I don’t know who Aegon Targaryen is. All I’ve ever wanted to be was Ned Stark’s son and now….

You are Ned Stark’s son. He raised you as his son in honor of your mother, but he loved you as his son because of who you are. Nothing can change that. But you are also the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, who died at the Trident defending your right to exist. Your parents both died protecting you, so that you could one day lead. Now is your time. Get up, Jon.

Bran pulled back from his warging, and waited. It did not take long for Jon to open his eyes and meet him.

His first breath felt like fire, all down the side of his chest, but Jon managed not to make more than a grunt until the pain and stiffness subsided. 

“It’s all true then?”

“Yes. All of it.”

Slowly, Jon sat up. He wanted to know where everyone was and who survived the battle in his absence, but something more urgent was pressing into the forefront of his mind. 

Daenerys.

He knew she was alive. Jon could smell her lingering scent in the room. He wanted to run to her, to wrap his arms around her, and finally offer her more than the hour-by-hour existence of war. The thought of her in his embrace, of even the possibility that she would have him for her own, filled him with a wild hope, until he remembered.

I am a Targaryen.

She is my father’s sister.

She is my aunt.

When he saw her again, with nothing to distract them from the miracle of their relation and the shame of what they had already done, what would he say? 

His hand rose to touch the scar over his heart. Many times over their trip to White Harbor she had traced her fingers over it, kissing the pain of its memory away until, for the first time since his brothers’ betrayal, he’d almost forgotten its existence. 

When he thought back to their love-making, the way they had come together, he felt warm, right, despite what he knew. There was no shame in love. Even when he had loved a wildling, he never felt ashamed of his feelings. Ygritte had been worthy of his love and so was Daenerys. No matter the circumstances that might force them apart, Jon knew he would never regret loving Daenerys.

“You should speak with her before the others,” Bran said with a trace of a smile. “She has some news for you.”

Before Jon could ask what Bran meant, he was already turning towards the door. 

“Rest yourself. I will make sure she knows that you are awake.”

Jon thought he was too anxious to fall asleep, so when he jolted awake at the feel of her hand in his, he was surprised.

For a second, neither of them could speak. The love he felt for her seemed to well up from deep inside him, then bloom out like a delicious hum all over his body. 

How can I hope to stay away from her, no matter who she is to me, he wondered. 

In her eyes, he saw the weight of his own love reflected back through the tears that fell down her cheeks. He’d seen Daenerys cry only twice before, once after the death of her dragon-child Viserion and again when she talked about losing her son Rheago. Jon knew it was something she would only allow herself to do in front of him. 

Without thought, without effort, he laced his fingers with hers. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I just…I have missed your eyes,” she said.

“Dany,” his voice was barely audible, but as soon as the words escaped, he regretted them. “I’m sorry…I know you don’t -.”

Dany smiled and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. That name is yours to call me, if you choose. It belongs to you.” Jon smiled.

“How is your arm?”

“Better than your chest, I think. Sam says my arm should be healed in another few weeks. It’s you the entire North is worried about. Your family…will be so pleased to see you’ve recovered.”

Family.

The word hung in the air between them for a moment before Jon slowly extracted his hand from hers.

Dany was hurt, but she couldn’t honestly say she was surprised. It was time they dealt with what lay between them.

“You’re a part of that family now.” The tone in his voice was heavy with regret.

Has it truly changed his feelings for me, she wondered. He looked at her with such love and desire, yet he was holding back. But none of it mattered to her, not anymore.

“Are you ashamed of us, Jon?”

He looked down at where her hand lay across her lap before tracing the soft skin on the back of her hand with his. 

“There is no part of me that regrets loving you,” he replied. “I just never expected to do the things I’ve done with you to an aunt. If I had known…”

“But we didn’t know. Should we be punished for what we did not know?”  
He looked up at her, finally understanding the calm in her voice.

“This doesn’t bother you then, what we are to each other?” 

Dany was glad she’d had the time to ask herself the same question. The reasons behind her acceptance had been harder to come by than she would have thought, but now she was happy to be able to give him an answer without hesitation.

“Before I was married to Drogo, there was every possibility that I could have married Viserys. It’s not a thought I relished, but it was not uncommon among Targaryens.” Dany gave Jon a small smile before continuing. “My mother was my father’s sister. After, Drogo, I never thought there was ever a chance to carry on that tradition. If it hadn’t been for you, I probably wouldn’t have. But you are here and now, I have no choice. I don’t care what others may think of us. I only care what you think.”

“I don’t know what I think. I’ve been the Bastard of Winterfell all my life. Now, everything is different, but inside, I’m the same. No matter who my father was, the North is my home. No matter what my last name is Stark blood runs through my veins.” Jon finally grasped her hand and met her gaze. “And no matter what your relation is to me, I love you. I don’t know if that’s enough, but that’s all I’m sure of.”

“And what do you want with me, Jon Snow, King in the North?”

“I’m not a King, not anymore.”

“You are to your people and you are to me.”

Dany could see the moment when his eyes opened fully to her and it took her breath away.

“When I knocked on your door, that first night, I wanted to ask you to marry me then, but it seemed unfair to ask such a thing, when I wasn’t sure if I would even live long enough to see our wedding day. But it was never my intention to lay with you and not marry you, if you would have me.”

“And now?” Dany held her breath as she waited for him, wondering if he would cross the chasm between them. 

“I still want to marry you, if you would have me.” 

The tears of happiness and relief came all at once, despite Dany’s best efforts to maintain her restraint. She leaned forward as Jon raised his hand to her cheek then bid her down to him for a kiss. Her tears ceased as their lips met and for a moment, there was only the silence of deep joy between them.

“Is that a yes?” Jon asked as they broke their kiss.

Staying close, Dany looked into his eyes. 

“I think we must,” she replied. “I couldn’t get rid of you now if I wanted to. Because of you, I have a family. Because of you, our family will have a future.” Slowly, with fresh tears brimming in her eyes, Daenerys sat up and brought the hand that had gently cupped her face to the softest part of her belly.

Jon stared at his hand over her clothes and skin for a long moment. Never before had the thought of children entered his mind. His whole life he had been an outcast, with no inheritance, no future, and no legacy to give. He had never looked beyond his life on The Wall and when that was over, life seemed to take on a purpose that had nothing to do with his simple desires. He’d wanted peace when Sansa came to Castle Black, but instead all he found was war. His only choice had been how to stand against the horrors that threatened those he loved. Until now.

This child, this woman, this life he would have to choose. 

His brown eyes held her lavender ones with tears of wonder shining in their eyes. They held underneath the palms of their hands a miracle they both thought they would never behold.

“We’ll marry as soon as I can make it down the stairs to the Godswood.”

Dany leaned forward and kissed him. “Of course,” she replied. “We will be waiting for you.”

 

***

News of The King in the North’s rapid recovery lifted the final cloud of The Long Night from Winterfell. Sansa, Dany, and Davos used the time while Jon was recovering to focus on castle repairs and refurbishment of supplies for the battles ahead. The lords of the North were anxious to return to the comfort of their own keeps, but not before they were able to see the King for themselves and know that the North was in strong hands. 

The certainty of Jon’s recovery also allowed Dany and Tyrion to refocus on the matter of Cersei and her efforts to regain control of the Seven Kingdoms. Dany knew that her presence in fighting the Great War had earned the respect of the Northern lords, but she still did not know if they would follow her into battle after sustaining such great losses. 

True to his word, the first thing Jon did when he was able to stand was meet Daenerys in the Godswood. The ceremony was simple, with Sam officiating under the Weirwood tree and every lord and lady in Winterfell standing by in silent approval. And as Jon took her hand, they rose as King and Queen to gentle smiles and thunderous applause. While some saw love and affection, others saw the favor of the North secured within the Seven Kingdoms. Regardless, they would be a powerful force within the Realm.

Though Sansa had arranged a feast in their honor, Jon and Daenerys postponed the festivities until later that evening. Instead, they decided to confront the latest news from a raven that arrived that morning, confirming that the Golden Company had arrived in Kings Landing and was preparing to make their way from Kings Landing to Dragonstone.


	5. An Army of One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The endgame arrives and all the players are set in motion.

Chapter 7: An Army of One 

“My Lords and Ladies. Thanks to Lord Tarly, every man, woman, and child in the Seven kingdoms knows that Cersei abandoned them in the fight to save Westeros from The Night King after swearing an oath to do so. Her shame is known across the Realm.”

Jon paused for a moment as the room erupted in applause.

“But our battles are not over. While we’ve fought and died for the living, Cersei remained safe behind the walls of King’s Landing plotting against us. Before he died, Sir Jaime confided that his sister had conspired with Euron Greyjoy to secure the services of a mercenary army of 20,000 men known as the Golden Company and bring them to Westeros to fight on her behalf against her own people. Just this morning, we’ve received word that they have arrived. She will begin by retaking the Reach, then Dragonstone, then march north until she has killed everyone who opposes her.

“I know that there are many in Westeros who would like nothing more than to stay home with their families and enjoy a few moments of peace. For some, it may seem like the better choice, to simply prepare themselves to bend the knee to a Queen who would rather watch their families die than lift a finger to help them. If so, they can wait, for surely she will come and show them no mercy in return for their cowardice. 

“But we in the North have faced far worse than Cersei Lannister and her mercenaries. We have looked death in the eye and conquered it for the good of our people, and only those who are willing to die as we have can rule us. Yesterday, we fought for our lives. Today, I ask you to fight for your freedom. I ask you to fight for the Queen who is worthy to rule, Daenerys Targaryen.” 

The lords in the room raised their voices in agreement, a sober mixture of anger over Cersei’s betrayal and an earnest rally around the woman who had now become their Queen. Yet, with less than half the Lords that had been there but a few weeks ago, the obvious question could not be avoided. 

As always, the truth was spoken by the one who knew it best. When the cheers died down, Lady Mormont stepped forward. 

“Your Grace, Bear Island stands ready to fight whenever our banner is called. But we are half the army we once were. How can we hope to stand against a force of 20,000 men?”

Tyrion stepped forward to address the room.

“Lady Mormont, we have sent ravens to all the other kingdoms, asking their support in overthrowing Cersei’s terrible reign. The Tullys have already pledged to join us. We expect similar support from the Reach as well and –”

“And how many men will that yield, my Lord?” Lady Mormont interrupted.

“We expect seven thousand men in all.”

“That won’t replace half the men we lost.”

“Indeed, my Lady. However, we are…”

“It won’t be enough,” Sansa interjected. “While we’ve been exhausting our resources fighting the dead, Cersei has been gathering her strength. If we fight her without the full force of the Realm, we will lose. She’s counting on it. We can’t make that mistake.”

Tyrion nodded. “It’s true, my lady. We are still working on a strategy.”

“With respect, my Lord, I don’t believe you are the one to lead such an endeavor. Cersei’s fooled you too easily before. You should have known that she would never send her soldiers to defend the North. Your hope for your family clouds your judgment.” 

Sansa’s words were harsh, but he could not deny their truth. With no response in hand, Tyrion was relieved when Jon intervened to save him from the humiliation of stumbling through a reply.

“So, what would you suggest?” Jon asked. 

“We need to form other alliances with those who have reason to hate her as much as we do.”

For the first time, Dany spoke up. “She killed Lady Oleanna Tyrell before we could mount an attack and the Iron Islands…”

“Are here, Your Grace,” Yara declared as she walked into the room. 

Dany stood, relieved to see Yara’s face once again. 

“You escaped Euron? How?”

“Theon. He took a group of men back to the Iron Islands to save me.”

“And where is he?” Jon asked, glad to hear that Theon had been successful in his quest. 

“Dead, your Grace. He died killing Euron and rescuing me.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” Jon replied softly. 

“He told me to come back here, to help you win the Great War. I see now that we’re too late for that, but I do have the largest fleet in the Seven Kingdoms at my command, which makes us just in time for the war for Westeros.”

“Will you fight with us?” Jon asked.

“I pledged my allegiance to the Queen. The Iron Born have come to honor that oath. Just let us know who we’re fighting.”

“I am grateful for your loyalty and your timing, Yara. We were just discussing our lack of allies. The addition of your fleet will help us narrow the odds,” Daenerys replied.

“The Iron Islands brings 5,000 men and 100 ships, Your Grace. We stand ready to do whatever you command.”

Varys stepped forth. “I believe Cersei still holds Ellaria Sands within the dungeons of King’s Landing. With a fleet of ships at our disposal, it’s possible that the Dornish armies would help us fight against Cersei. If nothing else, I should think they would want to rescue their Queen.”

“You’re quite right, Lord Varys,” Dany agreed. “Go to Dorne with Yara and let them know we stand ready to make Cersei pay for the sorrows she has inflicted across their lands. Tyrion, go with him and see to it.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Tyrion answered, silently wondering if going to Dorne had more to do with her lack of trust in Varys or her lack of trust in him. Knowing that the war between his Queen and his sister had begun, he felt nervous about the prospect of leaving Daenerys’ sense of justice unchecked. As much as he disliked his Cersei, Tyrion had no wish to see her burned alive. Still, Tyrion knew there was nothing he could do if it came to that, so perhaps it was better that he would be away.

“With the armies of the Iron Islands and Dorne fighting with us, we should match the Lannister armies and the Golden Company man for man,” Jon declared. Around the room, the spark of hope was catching.

“And we will have two large dragons that she can not outmatch,” Dany added confidently. 

The room bustled with a renewed sense of excitement and purpose until Sir Davos declared that it was time for the wedding feast to begin.

Tyrion took care to find Sansa in the procession to the wedding banquet.

“You don’t seem pleased, my Lady. I thought that went rather well.” When Sansa did not reply, he continued. “Despite what you may think of my strategic capabilities, I do want to defeat my sister. I hope you do not doubt this.”

Sansa sighed as she turned to face him. “I did not mean to insult you, Lord Tyrion. There is no shame in being too decent to imagine the depths of your sister’s cruelty. Though it may be a liability in this situation, it is a compliment to you as a person. You have always been the best Lannister.”

“Thank you, Sansa. Then what is troubling you? Do you believe our plans will fail?”

“They’re not enough,” Sansa replied. “Cersei will be prepared for this. There is nothing we plan to do that isn’t obvious, isn’t expected, and if we don’t come up with something unexpected, she will defeat us. I know that much about her.”

Dread crept back into Tyrion’s heart as he realized Sansa was right.

The wedding feast went on late into the night. Long after Jon and Daenerys had retired to their chambers to make love to each other as slowly and carefully as they could stand and as they fell exhausted into a deep, blissful slumber, Daenerys dreamt of herself sitting on the Iron Throne with her husband and her child beside her.

***

Sam waited until late the next morning after Yara’s ships had departed for Dorne and all the lords of the North had returned home to ready themselves for the trip south before he began delivering his messages to meet him in the Maester’s Turret at noon.

Jon thought he’d arrived first, concerned about what his dear friend and confidante might have to say, but he was surprised to see Arya and Bran already waiting for him.

“Good afternoon, brother,” Arya said with a smile before Jon came to give her a full embrace. No matter how deadly she became, he would always regard her as his little sister. After touching Bran’s shoulder in a more subdued greeting, Jon turned to Sam.

“Sam, what’s happened? Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” he answered hesitantly. “I just wanted to make sure we could speak in private. We have some sensitive matters to discuss.”

When the others arrived, Sam began.

“Ever since Bran and I discovered Jon’s true heritage, I’ve been doing more research on Jon’s father Rhaegar and his connection to the throne. I found out that after he lost the battle at the Trident, many of his most loyal followers fled Westeros rather than serve under Robert Baratheon.”

“Yes,” Dany interrupted. “Sir Barristan told me as much when we spoke about my brother.”

“Yes, well, when they fled Westeros, they went to Essos and formed the Golden Company.”

When Sam saw that no one but Gilly, who he kept up all night discussing his plans, was following where he was going, he tried to pick up the pace of his argument.

“What I’m saying is that Cersei has hired a company that was once loyal to Jon’s father and I’m wondering if they knew that Rhaegar Targaryen’s trueborn son was alive if they would rally around him instead.”

“And betray Cersei?” Arya asked when Jon looked too dumbstruck to speak. “Even in Braavos, everyone knows that the Golden Company never breaks a contract.”

“I thought that, too, but they have broken their contract once before. To back the claim of someone who claimed to be Rhaegar’s son, but wasn’t. They were betrayed before, but now we have proof! We have the records from the Citadel to prove Jon’s birthright and Rhaegar’s sister right here.”

“But that was more than 20 years ago. Would they be loyal to us now?” Dany asked.

“There’s only one way to find out. I can’t see any love lost between the founders of the Golden Company and Cersei. Many of the Lannisters helped Robert Baratheon strip them of their lands before they were forced into exile. An alliance between our causes would help them reclaim their lands while wiping Cersei’s advantage right out from under her. I think it’s at least worth a try.”

“I do, too,” Sansa agreed. “Cersei will not expect a betrayal from within. She has no idea that there is more than one Targaryen in Westeros with a claim to the throne.”

Leaning into the conversation, Arya spoke next. “I agree that it’s worth trying, but we need more than just a chance. If Cersei finds out that the Golden Company has betrayed her, she’ll flee King’s Landing. We can’t allow that to happen.”

“What do you mean?” Jon asked, chilled by the menace in his sister’s voice.

“I mean, while Sam tries to steal Cersei’s army away, we should make other plans to work from inside King’s Landing. But to cut off the head of the lion, you first have to go through The Mountain and I have just the person for that job. We’ll go ahead and meet you in King’s Landing. By the time you arrive, we’ll be ready. She won’t get away.”

“How? How would you ever be able to get close enough to capture her?” Jon asked getting more and more nervous with every word Arya spoke. Yet something in her eyes told Jon that Arya could do exactly what she said, that he could bet his life on it. 

“Sam was right to keep this meeting a secret. I’ll keep my methods the same. It’s safer for everyone that way. Just know that I will meet you in King’s Landing with Cersei’s head in my hands.” 

Jon nodded, while the others simply stared at the tiny waif with the menacing smile until Sam broke the silence.

“Right. Ok, then. Well, my plan is a bit less bloody, but hopefully just as effective. I’ll travel to King’s Landing to meet with the members of the Golden Company. I’ll bring my books to prove Jon’s legitimacy and hope that they will at least hear me out.”

“You’ll need more than books, Samwell Tarly,” Daenerys replied. “You’ll need someone to smuggle you into King’s Landing, a safe place to stay while you’re there, and a signal that only we here in this room know so that when you are ready, we’ll have more than books to show them. We’ll have dragons.”

***

They marched south, from as far away as the lands beyond the wall to as close as the ruined streets of Flea Bottom, led by a mother and her dragons. Three weeks after Daenerys broke her arm, she wrapped it tight and covered her forearms with two silver vambraces fashioned for her by Gendry Baratheon and emblazoned with the sigil of House Targaryen. Then, she mounted Drogon and took to the sky. At first, Jon had been nervous about her riding. What if you fall, he’d pleaded with little hope that he could change her mind, but then Dany reminded him: “Who better to protect a Targaryen, than a dragon?” 

They agreed that she would lead the march, so that word of their coming would carry until they reached King’s Landing. Then, Jon would join her on Rhaegal.

But while seeing Daenerys fly through the lands she one day hoped to rule inspired awe from all who saw her, it was her time on the ground that consolidated the various soldiers of the North and South into a united army of one. The march became an unexpected tour of the seven kingdoms for Dany and Jon that brought them closer to the people and the land around them. Over outdoor campfires and inside candlelit taverns, Jon and Dany shared stories of The Great War and their experience with the dead. The people, in turn, shared their fears and struggles with a Queen and King that actually cared to listen. 

The more they traveled, the more the people of Westeros came to know that the Dragon Queen and her army were nothing like they’d heard. Unlike the pillaging hoard that Cersei had promised, they found the Dothraki and the Unsullied soldiers to be respectful, if not somewhat reclusive, often disappearing into their strange tents that would appear out of nowhere at dusk, then vanish by the first light of day. 

And Daenerys Stormborn was something entirely unknown to them. A Queen who listened and genuinely cared about the plight of those she sought to rule. More than one innkeeper also noted that she seemed to be more than a little keen on the King in the North, who called her Dany whenever he forgot himself. It was rumored that they were married, but no one dared ask a Queen about her private affairs. Besides her slight accent, the Queen almost seemed like a normal person, until she called Drogon to the ground and flew out of sight. Jon and Dany recruited dozens of fighters from every town they visited.

Late in the evening, after retreating to their tent to make love, Dany would talk to Jon about her reoccurring dream of being seated on the Iron Throne. 

“These people need us, Jon. We’re going to change the world,” she whispered, drawing her naked body closer to his to keep the chill away. 

Beside her, Jon massaged her scalp with the tips of his fingers. The hum of agreement he made was barely audible. 

Propping herself up to see him better by the light of their single candle, Dany scrutinized his face. “Don’t you want to rule?” she asked finally.

Jon stared back at her for a long time, feeling the weight of his words before he spoke. 

“My place is with you. Wherever you are, that’s where I’ll be, but no, I don’t want to rule. I’ve never wanted that.”

“Then what do you want?”

Jon thought for a moment. “I want to see you on the Iron Throne because you’ve earned the right to be there. You’ve sacrificed and bled for your people more than any ruler I’ve ever heard of. You deserve the trust of the people.”

“But…”

Jon smiled at how well she knew him already. “But, I don’t want to live in King’s Landing. I don’t want our child, our family trapped in a city with a million people all squished together. I’m a child of the North, Dany. I need trees and space, not just for me, but for the dragons, too. When you take the throne, there’s no room for them to fly about and we can’t make the mistake of confining them to the Dragon’s Pit. They’ll need room and you may, too. King’s Landing may be the seat of power, but it is not a home. Even a Queen needs a place where she can feel safe. Think about it.”

Jon’s words were sobering, but they were also true.

“I will,” she promised before letting his embrace lull her to sleep. 

***

While Dany and Jon marched their army south, Sir Davos took a different road, smuggling the Hound, Arya, and Sam into King’s Landing by sea. Once inside the city, they split up with Arya and the Hound headed toward the Red Keep and Sir Davos and Sam in search of someone who could grant them an audience with the Commander of the Golden Company. They found just the man they were looking for, mostly sober, in a tavern that the Company was known to frequent. 

With Sir Davos’ help, the night before Jon and Dany arrived at King’s Landing, Sam brought Harry Strickland, Commander of the Golden Company and a small host of his men to a remote field within the Crownlands. The new moon sky was dark enough to hide an ambush and for a moment, Strickland thought of killing Sam for introducing the mere threat of treachery, but then he heard a sound that echoed of legends. His men gathered round in a tight circle as they looked up to the sky. From each side, they heard the flapping of massive wings before a terrible tremor shook the ground. At first, the men could only make out the dragons’ eyes, red and glowing like hot coals in the dark until their own eyes adjusted enough to see the slight hues of green and red in the dragon’s wings beside the silver hair of a Targaryen. At her side, stood a man with a dark wool cloak and sigils for House Stark and House Targaryen shining upon his silver breastplate. They walked together towards Sam before turning their attention to the men of The Golden Company. 

“Sir Stickland, may I introduce Daenerys Stormborn, Rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and Jon Snow, King in the North and trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark,” Sam announced. 

Taking advantage of the fact that Harry was too awestruck to speak, an elderly man stepped forward and stared at the young couple closely. 

“Truly! The last of House Targaryen! I never thought I would see that silver hair again, Your Grace,” he said before turning to Jon. “And you look just as your mother did, your Grace. I was a young man the day Rhaegar crowned your mother fairest at the tourney. I knew he was lost then, even if he didn’t. Oh, how they suffered, but it was not in vain. Look! Here you stand!”

Jon released Dany’s hand and stepped forward. 

“You knew my parents?” Jon asked doubtfully. “That was more than 20 years ago. Who are you?”

“My name is Jenoh Blackfyre. I served as your father’s squire during the Tourney at Harrenhal. I held his banner at the Trident and lived to see the best man I ever knew fall. It’s a good thing you took after your mother’s side. Robert woulda killed ya if he’d known. Believe me. Samwell told us. Your uncle done the right thing, hiding you.”

“Then you know we’re here to reclaim what is rightfully ours and save the Realm from those who would destroy it,” Daenerys said addressing Jenoh and the dumbstruck man who Sam had informed her was the Golden Company commander.

“Aye, Your Grace," Jenoh replied. "We know why you’re here, which is why we’ve come to help ya.”

***

From her hiding place inside the Red Keep, it was impossible to know if Sam had been successful in his efforts to convince the Golden Company to forsake Cersei’s contract. By the looks of things, Cersei seemed comfortable enough. Like a snake, coiled and ready to spring, Arya watched as Cersei paced her bedchamber in a nightgown and robe. Her cup was full of wine though the day had barely begun. Beside Arya, the Hound had just come back to confirm that the Golden Company still stood outside King’s Landing’s gates seemingly waiting for their enemies to arrive. 

“We should just fucking kill her now and get it over with,” The Hound hissed in her ear. At the edge of the room, the Mountain stood motionless as if carved from blackened clay. 

“We have to wait until she’s more vulnerable. We won’t get another chance. Sam said if he was successful, there would be no mistake. We would know it. Just wait.”

The Hound growled in response. Just then, the man she had marked as Cersei’s most trusted ally, Qyburn knocked, then entered the room.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Your Grace, but I saw that your chamber was lit and there is a matter of great urgency upon us. I believe, we have a usurper in the ranks.”

“Who?”

“My birds have just informed me that someone high up within the Golden Company was seen last night in one of the local taverns meeting with a man I believe was Sir Davos Seaworthy. They left the tavern together and did not return. With your permission, I would like to bring the Golden Company’s commander in for questioning before we are under siege.”

For a moment, Arya caught a flash of panic in Cersei’s eyes, but she quickly brought herself under control.

“See to it quickly. We can not have dissenters on the eve of battle,” Cersei commanded before adding, “Set everything in motion.”

Qyburn hesitated for only a moment before answering, “Yes, Your Grace,” then leaving the room in haste. Arya turned to the Hound. “Now,” she whispered.

The Hound stepped from behind the terrace where they had been hiding most of the night and walked out into Cersei’s chamber.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.” Though his stride angled towards Cersei, his gaze was fixed on the man who finally seemed to be coming alive on the other side of the room. “Hello, brother.”

The Mountain stepped forward.

“Kill him!” Cersei shouted as she tried to move away, but the Hound got to her first. With his full palm covering the front of her face, the Hound shoved her aside. Cersei hit her head hard against the side of her bed before crashing to the floor unconscious. 

The Mountain charged at the Hound who met him head on, blow for blow. As their fight began, Arya sprang into action. While she would have liked nothing more than to slap Cersei awake just before cutting her throat, Arya knew that was not the move to make. Not yet. Instead, she bound and gagged the woman she loathed most in the world then tied her to the bed until she returned. 

“I’ll be back,” she said to the Hound before slipping out the door. 

***

Cersei opened her eyes in terror only to find Qyburn loosening her bonds.

“Your Grace, we must leave at once. We have been betrayed.” 

“The Hound! He was here!”

“I know, your Grace. The Mountain is dead. The Hound killed him then fled. He knocked me down the stairs as I was returning to you.” 

It was then that Cersei noticed the blood at Qyburn’s hairline. 

“But please, we must leave now if you are to escape.”

“Escape! I have 20,000 men under my command. Their armies are spent…” Cersei was silenced by the sound of a horn blowing triumphantly at the gate.

Qyburn pulled her up from the bed and towards the terrace of her chamber. 

Outside, the Golden Company stood at the Lion gate but no longer were their spears and elephants pointed out towards the enemy. Instead, they stood looking in on King’s Landing with Daenerys Targaryen and her hoard behind them. The Dragon Queen’s army covered half the circumference of the city, spanning from the King’s Gate to the Old Gate. To the West, the sails of the Ironborn along with the Sunspear of Dorne blocked the Blackwater from escape. They were surrounded.

“We need to leave now, Your Grace, before they breach the gates.”

Slowly, Cersei backed away as the full understanding of her defeat seeped in. 

If the North wins, they’ll ride south and kill us all. Jaime had tried to warn her. Forgive me, she pleaded silently to the beloved face she would never see again.

“Where will I go,” she whispered. Who, she wondered, would take her after everything she’d done.

“I have a plan, Your Grace. Cover your face with this shawl and follow me.”

Qyburn led her down the steps of the Keep while ordering the guards he met along the way. 

“Protect, your Queen,” he urged. “To the gate!” Dutifully, the soldiers rushed past as he led Cersei towards the secret passages that had been the means of a very different escape a lifetime ago.

“It’s cold! Where are we going, Qyburn? I’m not properly dressed.” 

“Patience, Your Grace. I am trying to secure your safe passage. We’ll be there soon.”

Inside, Cersei could feel the chill, like fear, seeping into her bones. But there was no one else to turn to anymore, so she clutched her robe closer to her body and pushed forward until suddenly she could see a dim light behind her lids. Cersei opened her eyes, but could barely make out her surroundings. The shawl Qyburn had given her was fine but thick, one of her own she suspected that Qyburn must have grabbed from her wardrobe in the rush to see her to safety. He kept his hand at the curve of her neck, forcing her head towards the ground as they shuffled forward.

“We are here, Your Grace,” Qyburn announced as he lifted his hand from her head. 

Cersei straightened her body as she lifted the shawl from over her head. To her surprise, they were surrounded by rubble in the ruined remains of what used to be one of King’s Landings many tunnels. Despite the lack of scenery, Cersei smiled.

“Is this one of your little bird’s tunnels, Qyburn?”

Qyburn did not return her smile. “Do you know where we are, Your Grace? This place holds special significance for us both.”

“I’ve no idea. I can’t image how you found it,” Cersei replied while dusting some filth from her robe.

“This tunnel is how I escaped the Red Keep when your guards first came for my father. I slept down here for days until I heard he was going to be executed.”

“What?” For the first time in many years, Cersei’s expression conveyed a sincere emotion.

“I watched as you stood there. I watched as you did nothing while your son sentenced my father to death.”

Slowly, Cersei began to back away, but with rubble everywhere, she took a misstep that sent her stumbling into what remained of the tunnel wall behind her. Just then a beam of light broke through the cracks in the tunnel ceiling so that she could see the distinctive stone beneath her feet clearly.

The Sept of Baelor, she thought with dread. Cersei didn’t know how, but there was only one person who could tell the story Qyburn told, only one enemy that had eluded her. But, how…

“Qyburn…”

“Come now, Your Grace. You can’t be that stupid. Think carefully. You know who I am and you’re scared, for perhaps the first time in your whole miserable life.”

Cersei was speechless as the man before her stepped forward.

“Don’t let your eyes deceive you. See past the face of the man you once trusted. Close your eyes and tell the truth, for once in your life.”

Though the sensation of genuine terror was overwhelming, Cersei refused to look away. She couldn’t keep the tears from falling down her cheeks.

“Very well, then I’ll show you.”

Slowly Arya reached down around her neck and pulled Qyburn’s bloody face from her own.

Before she could scream Arya punched Cersei in the mouth then quickly forced her to the ground so that she could bind her arms behind her back.

When Arya forced her back up on her knees, Cersei’s eyes were wild as she stared up at the small girl before her, still unable to comprehend.

“Arya? Arya, please…”

“Don’t you dare!” Arya hissed. “Or I won’t be able to keep myself from cutting you to pieces right here. With so much time and no one to hear you, I could take all the time I wanted to pull you apart piece by piece.” The thought was so strong Arya had to take a deep breath to calm herself before yanking Cersei to her feet. 

“But I made a promise to deliver your head to the gates of King’s Landing. Come, Your Grace. The Dragon Queen is waiting.”

From the remains of the Sept, it was a relatively short walk to the Lion Gate, but Arya was still cautious. She didn’t know how many of the King’s Guard she might encounter in a futile attempt to resist her brother and the Queen. But she didn’t have to walk far. Halfway through her journey, Drogon burned down the gate along with the stone that held it together and marched forth. Arya hoped that the dragon was hungry as she clutched Cersei by the hair and dragged her the rest of the way.

As Arya stood in front of the Dragon Queen, she tightened her grip on Cersei’s scalp and forced her to her knees. 

“I’ve brought you a wedding present, Your Grace. I’d hoped Jon would be here so that I could present my gift to you both. Where is he?”

“He took Rhaegal, the Iron Born, and Dorne’s army and decided to approach from Blackwater Bay. He went to the Red Keep to rescue Ellaria and help you, I believe.”

Arya frowned, disappointed that her brother would not be here to see the author of all their families’ pain beheaded.

“When he returns, I’ll have to inform him that you don’t need any help keeping your promises.”

Dany’s face was triumphant as she looked down and finally acknowledged Cersei’s bloodied face from atop her dragon. 

“I wonder if she appreciates that she is still attached to the head you’ve brought me.”

“I don’t think so, Your Grace, but it won’t spoil my joy when I relieve her of it.”

Dany struggled to keep herself from smiling at Arya’s singular focus before she turned her attention to Cersei.

“Cersei Lannister, I relieve you of your position as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. You have failed to keep the lands you swore to protect and for this I charge you with treason. Do you have any words to say for yourself before I sentence you to death?”

“I am a daughter of Westeros! I will not submit to some foreign whore. You and your northern boy can burn for all I care. All of you can burn!”

“Is that all you have to say before your death?”

Cersei looked up at the young woman who had haunted her like a shadow ever since the witch spilled her prophecy like poison over her entire life. 

“You think you have taken everything from me, but even now, I take more from you. Things I’ve never had, loyalty, love, happiness, you will lose right here for me to watch. My pain is almost over, but yours has only just begun,” said the fallen queen.

Dany worked hard to keep the sudden dread from showing on her face. Cersei was cruel, but Dany knew the woman was not crazy. Her words had meaning, a meaning best fathomed before it was too late. 

Slowly, Dany’s eyes rose to the Red Keep just before she heard a rumbling up from the ground like thunder. Rhaegal screeched from his perch on the city walls behind the Red Keep as the first green flames erupted from the castle foundations.

Dragonfire!

Daenerys reared up and took flight.

On the ground, Arya thought back to where she had killed Qyburn and took his face. He had been climbing up the stairs from the deepest part of the Keep. Set everything in motion, Cersei had commanded before Qyburn left her chambers. Only now did Arya finally understand what those words meant.

Cersei’s screams of laughter were cut short as Arya drew the Valerian blade from her belt and cut Cersei’s head from her body in one powerful stroke. But there was no satisfaction in it as she turned and ran, leaving the loose remains of Cersei’s body to be trampled on by the men and women who followed their new Queen towards her burning throne.

***

Dany had never believed in the Gods. Throughout her life, she’d never met anything stronger than her own will to live, to get the things she wanted. But her will could not stop a raging fire. No man could survive it, no man she had ever seen, but her. 

The army that followed her to the Keep was far behind her now. The flames burned too hot for anyone else to come near. By the time she climbed down from Drogon her clothing had almost completely burned away, but it did not stop her from running across the burning bits of molten stone and earth. She knew the architecture of the Red Keep almost as well as Dragonstone, having envisioned every moment of when she would take the stronghold as her own, but as it fell to pieces all around her, Dany could not find it in herself to care. There was only one thing that mattered, only one goal worth her focus and she called his name continually as she dodged the falling debris that came down around her like rain. 

“Jon! Jon!” Her throat grew raw from screaming, but he never answered. 

Eventually, as the Keep seemed to settle into its destruction, Dany simply wandered around the passageways she could reach. In the places where the flames had died down, the black smoke billowed like a curtain, obscuring almost everything from sight. It was only as she made her way through the rubble of the throne room that she found him, lodged between, but somehow not completely crushed by, two pillars that collapsed during the initial explosion. 

Even though his body was motionless on the ground, Dany still called to him as she climbed into the small space where he lay.

“Jon! I’m here, my love. Please don’t leave us. I need you.” She didn’t imagine that she could cry any more than she already had in the long search to find him, but the tears came freely as her heart exploded with grief. Unable to pry his body from where he was lodged, Dany simply laid down beside him and stroked his ashen cheek.

“Please, Jon, don’t leave me in this world alone.” Just as she leaned in to kiss his lips, Jon jolted awake with a terrible cough that brought blood to pool and drip from his mouth.

“Dany! Dany!” Jon gasped. His eyes looked around wildly until they found her.

“Sshhh. It’s alright. I’m here.”

A fit of coughing brought more blood to his mouth. He clutched her hand with a strength that waned with every breath he took. 

“Arya…”

“She’s fine. She’s waiting for you outside.”

With painful effort, he drew his face to hers until their foreheads and noses caressed.

“I wanted to be with you. I gave you my word.”

“You are with me. Always. A part of you will always be with me,” she sobbed while bringing his hand to her belly.

Her words sent a pained smile to his face. “I saw you on Dragonstone, with our children. I saw you laughing and I was there, Dany. I will always be where you are,” Jon whispered. His eyes were wide with a wonder and happiness she’d never seen him express before. He looked so happy that Dany couldn’t help but smile.

“I’ll see you there, then” she replied as she kissed him goodbye. “I’ll see you there.”

 

Epilogue:

Though the Red Keep was all but destroyed, the Iron Throne survived long enough for the lords of the Seven Kingdoms to see Drogon melt it down, just before the twins, Jon and Lyanna Targaryen were born.

The First of Her Name had never sat on the Iron Throne and, after Jon was buried, she never wanted to. The sight of it was a constant reminder of what it cost her to get it and how unworthy the cold chair was as a substitute for the warmth of his touch.

She remained in King’s Landing only long enough to institute the democratic principles upon which Westeros would now be governed. To her surprise, Dany was elected the country’s first Regent with administrative duties for leading and coordinating the surrounding kingdoms, who elected their representatives to the governing body of the Regent Council. 

Dany made her headquarters at Dragonstone while ordering the construction of a Regent castle to replace where the Red Keep had been. It would serve as the home for future elected officials once her term was over. 

She served three terms, elected by the people, but refused a fourth, as her children grew older and she wanted to spend more time with them without the painful ordeal of needing to return to King’s Landing. Tyrion served after her as a just and clever Regent.

And in her time between Dragonstone and Winterfell, Daenerys Stormborn was as happy as she could be for as long as she lived knowing that her children were joyful, her family was strong, and Jon was always with her even if she could not see him anymore.

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I don't know about anyone else, but this has been fun for me! If you enjoyed the journey, please leave a comment. I'd love to hear your thoughts. :-)


End file.
